UA 591 BOS IAH 0750 1119 319 21A Ch9^^

I couldn't check in so went to the desk to see what was
what. After rummaging around a bit the agent said with some
surprise that there was another pax with the same last name
as me on this flight, so they had to do a manual (or perhaps
visual) checkin. Peculiar. I've had some odd security
happenings lately; maybe they're worried that some
suspicious character has stolen my identity or something.
She noted that "they gave you the exit row seat with nobody
in front of you," which of course meant that my 320, which
last I'd checked had 3 seats left up front, with me second
on the list, had been swapped for with a 319. It's okay, I
rather like the throne and do not care for breakfast on
United. As we were about to push back, someone a couple rows
up got asked to come forward and bring their belongings with
them. The FA sent to assist him added "and follow me off the
plane." I believe that it was a rather lame joke; anyhow, no
ruckus was raised, and I am presuming the guy was seen to a
more cushy place and a hot but nasty breakfast.

After sending an envious glance toward the lucky passenger,
the guy in 21C (we had an empty B seat) stole an envious
glance or two my way. He wasn't substantially taller than I,
so I made no offers. Actually, someone would have to be very
tall, almost Lew Alcindor tall, before I would willingly
cede the throne.

A pilot in uniform had 21F; used to be that you'd see a
lot of employees in first. Now they are rare there but tend
to occupy the more attractive coach seats, especially the
unspoken-for Economy Plus spots.

Our captain announced Channel 9; with this soothing lullaby
I stretched out and snoozed for almost all of this flight.

But wait, there's more. As we were about to turn onto the
takeoff runway, I groggily heard "uh, United 591, we, uh,
have to go back to the gate," and so we did. It turns out
the nose gear had sounded funny, and investigation had shown
that all the gas that cushions it had leaked out. Finding
that out and remedying it took an hour plus, so we headed
out again an hour and half late with promises that they'd
try to make up as much time as possible. Which, owing to
huge headwinds, was zero - in fact, we lost time and landed
about the departure time for my connection.

I went to a kiosk, where I was told I was still booked on
my original flight, which gave me a glimmer of hope, so I
raced on to the other gate only to discover, of course, that
the computer was wrong, and the plane was gone. Luckily, the
club was nearby, so I gave the agent my tale of woe and
after a few taps on the computer was told that there was
one seat left on the next flight, but it was "a good one."

I had time to check my e-mail and out of curiosity looked at
the seatmap and upgrade list - it turns out that I was both
3B and 3F, an anomaly that seems to happen when one is
handled both manually and automaticallly at the same time.
My boarding pass said 3B. By the time I got to the plane,
off near Pappadeaux', zone 2 was being boarded, and I found
a rather smug young creature sitting in my original place.

UA1607 IAH PHX 1430 1527 738 3B was 3F
was 1147 1248 1345 739 3F

But nobody next to me - until departure time, when the gate
agent did the running down the aisle thing, and a youngish
man came up dragging along a small child, who proceeded to
get put in the empty place with the usual admonitions to be
good. When I'd had enough drinks I wandered back and asked
the guy whether he wanted to sit with his son, but he said
that was okay, he had a whole family with him in Economy Plus,
but he'd gotten the battlefield upgrade and decided to give
it to the kid.

The kid played on some small electronic device for most of
the flight and was bored for the rest of it but didn't
fidget too much. I had feared that he would be a bit bao bei,
but he turned out to be fine.

Service was pretty good. The guy in 2A communicated to the
staff by hand gesture only, which I thought odd, and which
put off the purser, a black guy in his 30s, who appeared to
take this as a racial issue, which on reflection I think it
was. Thenceforth, he had other flight attendants serve our
area, which was no problem for me, as one was rather pretty
in an eastern European looking way and the other gorgeous
and statuesque and milk-chocolate-colored and attentive.

Courvoisier was better than usual.