Three years, less a day

We put the top down in the Pontiac for the short drive from Marina del Rey to LAX. Using the three-letter code LAX for Los Angeles International Airport is so much a matter of course that when we reached the road sign pointing the way to “LA Airport” it seemed wrong, somehow, to refer to it that way. What a pleasure to wake up to the sun every morning, the air warm on your cheek, the smell of rice pilaf in the air. California smells like rice pilaf.

I pulled up outside Terminal 1 for the short flight on America West. My policy is always to fly United unless they are uncompetitive with price or they are flying the Shuttle on the route. United lost on both counts this trip. The America West fare was $83 round trip including taxes and the convenient flights on UA were $121. Plus I’m not enamored, and Hunnybear is not enamoured, with UA’s policy of giving only actual miles on Shuttle flights. Since it’s just a short hop to Vegas, I’m not missing more than a few hundred status miles by flying HP.

According to my statement, my last flight on America West was March 23, 1997. That means that today, March 22, 2000, was the last possible day to fly America West and avoid having my 18.000+ miles expire. Talk about leaving things till the last minute!

Because I wanted to ride with Hunnybear before she went to work, we arrived over 90 minutes before flight time. I had no trouble checking in at the regular old line, but when I asked “Are there any upgrades available?” The lackluster clerk told me I had to be Silver. I asked if there was any other way to upgrade and he said no, then corrected himself—“You could be Gold, or Platinum…” I thanked him and took seat 14D.

With so much time before the flight I decided to walk across the airport to Terminal 7 and the United Red Carpet Club. The LAX RCC is just beautiful. While they still don’t have any protein snacks in the morning, The place has so many desks and telephones that it could as a set for a secretarial fetish film. I plugged in and read FlyerTalk until close to flight time. When I hiked back across the parking garage to Terminal 1 I got selected for a laptop screening. Fortunately it passed. I arrived at gate 13 and tried a line I think I stole from a fellow FlyerTalker: “I’d like to volunteer to sit in First Class in case you need to sell any more coach seats.” This brought a smile and the clerk, a much friendlier Hispanic girl, leaned close to me and said with a grin, “We’re not fully booked.” So I said on United Airlines I’m King, but here I ain’t nothing.. She said I had to be Silver. I asked sweetly if she didn’t think she could comp me to Silver, just for the day. There was a brief pause.

“I’ll see what I can do. Why don’t you—”

“I’ll just hang out here and I won’t bug you.”

Sure enough, right after final boarding call, she called over to her colleague, “Cuantas personas hay in primera clase?” “Seven.” “Dále el señor bla bla bla bla.” My Spanish was rusty but I knew what that meant. I gave heartfelt thanks to both agents and claimed seat 1C in the old 737. We were delayed 20 minutes on the ground for loading more cargo.

Service on this flight was superior to United Shuttle. There was a choice of snacks: an elongated doughnut in plastic wrap, trail mix, or honey-roasted almonds. I had three packets of almonds and a club soda in a glass glass. The plane had the old video-game units that haven’t worked for years. The stewardess told me that America West was not allowed to remove them for ages because of tied-up bankruptcy-court proceedings with the company that produced them. Now, she said, they were gradually removing them.

We arrived at Terminal B in Las Vegas where Jeffrey met me with a big smile. We got a Smarte Carte for $2 and took the long hike to the taxi stand. A charming old Italian gentleman took us to the Monte Carlo, where I was staying for the excellent rate of free, for $13 including tip. The clerk there found a strip-view room on a high floor for me, but it wasn’t clean yet so I dropped my stuff off in Jeffrey’s room.

Lunch today was at the buffet at the Las Vegas Hilton, soon to no longer be called a Hilton according to the staff there. Perhaps they will change the name back to the International. The lunch buffet ($8.99) was unremarkable with poor selection and mediocre quality.

I played a few hands of the special “Wheel of Dreams” blackjack, where every time you hit blackjack you get to spin a wheel that pays 10 to 1000 times your one-dollar side bet. I hit a 20, a 12, and a 10, but not the vaunted 1000, and ended up ahead $40.

We decided to have dinner in the Monte Carlo hotel steakhouse, Blackstone’s. We got a booth on the side in this pleasant, average little place. The highlight of the meal was a nice inexpensive St.-Emillion. We started with escargot, which came cooked right but with not enough garlic in the butter. A Caesar salad was nothing special. Jeffrey’s New York steak was superb but arrived too rare and needed to be sent back, while my veal chop was tasty but very fatty near the bone With all the great steakhouses in Las Vegas I wouldn’t pick this one.

After dinner we went to see Lance Burton, also in the Monte Carlo. This was the best magic show I’ve ever seen. Trick after trick was astounding. Birds appeared, girls disappeared—and he liked to work with kids from the audience, which was a big hit. A highly recommended. 90-minute show which, at $49, is almost a bargain in Vegas.