The first business of the day was an investigation of the
Pinball Hall of Fame, right opposite the site of the late
lamented Liberace Museum; here dozens of machines have been
restored to playing condition and enjoyable mostly at the
same prices as when they had originally come out, which
means that a dollar potentially could yield vast amounts
of amusement for children of the '50s or '60s. I played
a few games on a '60s machine and was satisfied and then
wandered the floor for a while.

I found TW1 playing a machine of his vintage called Twilight
Zone, on which he somehow had managed to rack up huge numbers
of free games; he was getting kind of bored by the time I
discovered him, and he allowed me to play a while, which as
I never figured the game out, and it was dimly lit, and I
though possessing a supple wrist have no talent for this
activity, severely depleted the free games, upon which he
took over again and lost the rest of them.

Anyhow it was time to head to Lotus of Siam, a much-touted
downtown restaurant with a fabled wine list. I am told it
has much expanded recently, taking over adjacent space
formerly occupied by such dodgy operations as a wig shop.

I believe the kitchen at least at lunch feels the pressure
from the expansion. Each dish showed promise, but all but
one had at least one fatal flaw.

We asked for som tum "medium to hot"; it was a very nice
balanced presentation, the mango just green enough, the
peanuts just roasty enough, the juice just sweet and sour
enough. Problem was there was no discernible heat in the
dish at all. This was remediable by the hot tray's very
nice toasted chile flakes (also available but too salty
for me - peppers in vinegar; peppers in fish sauce; salty
pepper jam).

TW1 said he wanted something from the grill, so I asked for
one of the fusionish "chef's specialties," char-broiled beef
with penang sauce - this came as a better-than-Sizzler-not-
so-good-as-Longhorn steak served over a pleasant but way
underseasoned brown curry. It might have been good with a
better steak or a more flavory sauce but as it was was a bit
of a belly filler.

Not so much so as the spicy seafood spaghetti, though; this
was claimed by the menu to be made of egg noodles; what came
was thin spaghetti of not a high order, somewhat limp, with
scallops (lousy, as scallops tend to be these days), shrimp
(good), squid (good), and surimi (unconscionable). The sauce
this time was okay, but the entire package a disappointment.

Instead of dessert we ordered the appetizer of Issan sour
sausage, which was merguez-like with a livery undertone, and
I liked it pretty well, especially with bites of the onion
and serrano that were served with.

Oddly, at this point we were hungry again, and TW1 ordered
a dish of coconut ice cream, at which to join him I asked
for the sticky rice with mango hold the mango - this came
napped with an insufficient amount of thin coconut cream
somewhat sweetened with ordinary (not palm) sugar: it was
not sweet enough, nor salty enough, nor coconutty enough.

All in all the food was decent but no better than any Thai
restaurant I have visited on the east coast in the last five
years or any Thai restaurant I have visited in Asia ever.

St. Urbanshof Ockfener Bockstein Kabinett 2010 was a joy,
though, and not at all overpriced. Roses on the nose,
nicely acid, tropical fruity pineapply, just the right
amount of sweetness.

We went off to the new performing arts center downtown to
hear Duncan Sheik - of whom TW1 is fond - and Suzanne Vega
- whom I find intriguing - in the upstairs cabaret.

The actual performance venues, way far from the parking
garage, are kind of hard to find, something that I presume
will be remedied as the facility finds its way. We
eventually found our way, along with bevies of other
befuddled patrons.

It's pretty big, for a cabaret, with floor seating with
meal and drink service and balcony seating with abbreviated
catering. TW1 got us a table on the floor, not cheap: it
was ideally situated, halfway back and in the center. I
don't like sitting in front - it's distracting and loud -,
and I appreciate the thoughtfulness of those who get me
concert tickets not too close to the stage (baseball is a
different kettle of fish, as if I'm far back I don't stand
a chance of seeing what's going on: ergo spring training
and minor league parks, as I can't afford box seats for the
bigs). I think they could have done with less amplification
- but then I am used to gentler sounds, and in truth the
balance was good.

Both artists are probably appreciated for their poetry and
the moody beauty of their music; though their voices are
enjoyable I don't think that that's the notable strength
of either of them.

Duncan started with a fairly short set, followed by a very
short set by Suzanne; then they combined to present a
preview of a musical they are writing together based on the
career of Carson McCullers - esoteric stuff. I think the
universal feeling among the audience was that the show was
too short.

I spied Maker's on the menu for a reasonable $8. The pour
was substantially bigger than normal, and I thought that was
terrific; so I had another one - paradoxical I know, but if
it had been a bad bargain, I'd have stuck to the one. When
the bill came there was this unannounced "rocks charge" of
$3 a drink, which I disputed. Apparently, you are charged
extra for not taking rocks, as the bartender feels obligated
to give a bigger pour. I disputed this; it was apparently
taken off the bill - I hope so, as I was going to leave the
same amount anyway, and if it wasn't taken off, the waitress
wasn't getting a tip. Anyone know whom to complain about
this? I'm going to write to the Las Vegas tourism board for
starters.

We stuck around for the CD sale and autograph session, and
I took a photo of TW1 with Duncan, which now resides on
TW1's FB page.

After the event TW1 dropped me off at the airport. A
mess at security, queues every which way going nowhere.
At some point they got tired of the lines not moving and
opened another lane, which led to a weave that broke down
behind me, as two people down the way exchanged hot words
and apparently nearly got into a fistfight. The procedure
seemed slower than at other airports, and a Sierra Nevada
at the PC was most welcome.

UA1255 LAS ORD 2341 0508 739 2B

The captain announced (the first of several times I have
heard this) that the flight was operated and served by proud
Continental employees under United management. The employees
were too proud, as it turns out, to serve, and worked to
rule; a pity as I couldn't sleep, even with the aid of
drugs, in the horrid Continental seats.

As the next leg was also in the low Bs, near where we
docked, I had an hour at the club, where catering was
perfunctory to say the least. No solid food except for a
scanty display of sad-looking fruit.

UA1420 ORD BOS 0635 0943 738 2B

This also Continental crew was considerably less grumpy,
almost pleasant, even as they served a pretty bad breakfast
sandwich - a hardish English muffin surrounding an
altogether too thin slice of hamoid substance ("how is the
food?" "terrible - and the portions are so small"), a
splash of gooshy process cheese food, and an appalling
egg puck. This was balanced by a decent fruit cup and a
bowl of horrendous moldy-berry yogurt.

We landed, as I recall, a bit late, not a big deal, as I
had plenty of time to kill before my afternoon meeting.

The price at Embassy Suites Waltham had been quite
advantageous, but getting there without a car is not easy.
Luckily, the hotel offers free shuttle service within a
3-mile radius, which frees public transport users from the
infrequent and slow 70 bus and allows access to the Waltham
rail station. Unluckily, while I was there, the trains were
not running. At the hotel I was issued a pleasant nothing
special suite that reminded me very much of the Doubletree
Phoenix (not a big surprise, as this property used to be
one of those).

Tempo, the well-known restaurant with the well-known
half-price wine on whatever this day was, Monday or Tuesday,
is just outside the allowable radius, so my buddy Link
picked me up at the hotel (hard to find by GPS). Waltham has
evolved over the decades into a mini food capital, and this
is one of dozens of worthy eateries that have sprung up
since a couple top-notch Italians set the pace in the '70s,
and you can find whatever you want on Moody Street.

We started with the Dogfish Head 60 minute IPA, which in my
state of degraded tastebuds is just on the borderline of too
hoppy (I used to like the 90), followed by Fogdog Pinot Noir
(Sonoma Coast) 08, which despite a rather surprising nose of
roses and violets settled down into your typical cherries
and berries Pinot, with a pleasant softness and a modest
moderate-length berry and vanilla finish.

I asked if the fried calamari came with tentacles and upon
receiving an affirmative ordered a plate - standard but
comforting and good. The Rhode Island-style garnish of
hot cherry peppers went well with the beer; a dip of saus
prik meant perhaps to fusionize the dish was kind of silly;
I used it as a palatabilizer so I could eat some of the
veggie garnish, which I dimly recall to be romaine, carrot
curls, and maybe turnip.

I had boneless short ribs, asking for the fattiest available
serving; what came was moderately fat chuck meat, possibly
from near the short rib, tasty and tender. It has been years
since I've encountered real undeniable short rib with the
(tasty and interesting when stewed) membrane on. This came
with diced mushrooms in demi-glace, pretty good; gnocchi,
nasty and heavy; and crisp-tender green beans.

Link's duck two ways were the canonic seared breast medium
(I'd have asked for it rare rare) and undersalted "confit";
bok choy and a quite intense and tasty mushroom risotto on
the side.

No room for dessert, and as the meal had crept into the
tabooed three figures, it was just as well.

Link got me to the hotel in time for me to get a blessed
full night's sleep. The bed was pretty comfortable, but I
had to call to get them install a clock in the room: imagine
a hotel room with no clock.

The train was still not running next day, and public trans
inbound is even slower and less reliable than coming out,
so I had to get up way early.

No problems on this trip, and security was reasonably
pleasant and efficient, the way it should always be, and I
had plenty of time to gorge on bananas (need to watch my
potash) at the club.

Continued here.