To the Deodorant Do - July
 

UA7286 PVD IAD 1425 1610 CR7 3A

Hitched a ride with friends going to the dentist in Pawtucket.
No particular relevance to this except that the dentist visit
took twice as long as it should, and I'd said sure, I'll sit
around the dentist's office (instead of sitting around the
terminal). So big rush on the end, and they got me to the
airport at 1:30. I assured my friends that I'd be fine,
and in fact security took just a few minutes, despite the
line of 50 or 60, and I had time to bolt down a Sam and a
burger rare at Wolfgang Puck. Don't order the burger rare:
it's pretty good beef, but it appears to be adulterated and
seasoned and whatnot, so the effect is of eating rare meat
loaf. The build: bun (buttered), special sauce of the usual
sort, patty, sauteed mushrooms with herbs (thyme, oregano),
Cheddar, chopped red onion, tomato, lettuce, bun. $10.95
with a huge pile of good fries on the side. Sam: 16 oz for
$5.50++, add $1.50 for a "big beer" - actually only 4 more
oz, add $3 for a shot of non-top-shelf booze. Oddly, Knob
and Maker's are non-top-shelf, whereas Johnny red is. Okay,
Knob Creek it is. The sandwich experience was reasonably
satisfying, in the big blob of multiflavored food way; just
it wasn't really a burger. And more calories than should be
ingested at one sitting.

I faintly heard "flight 7286 to Washington Dulles, all
zones, all rows" but ignored it for a while. When I moseyed
to the gate, my seat was gone, and the FA said, take any
open seat. I fell asleep for the duration of the flight. I
am sort of glad that the bulkhead row was empty (probably
vacated by late upgrades, and more power to them). We landed
a bit early, but I went to the extremely crowded C17 RCC to
do my e-mail and missed a couple of the newly doubled in
price Dulles-downtown buses. Eventually found one and paid
my $6 (extortionate, but what else is new in Washington?).

US 887 DCA CLT 1035 1156 319 3F Empower off

I got the full secondary at security. I told some friends
that the circus seldom takes more than 10 minutes here, so
maybe I jinxed myself. So: body scan. Every item (except
medicine and toiletries bag) taken out, unfolded, felt up,
and examined. Sort of silly. I chatted with the "lead,"
one Fritz, while her colleague went extremely carefully
through every nook and cranny of my bag. She seemed a little
defensive and informed me that they had to be extra careful,
with all the congresspersons and all, which makes no sense,
and I told her that they probably caught more politicians
than anything else, and if they don't they should. With all
the extra attention, getting into the terminal took 20 min,
and the club was specially welcome afterward. Even though
the bar was closed. Fie on you, Virginia ABC regulations.

[P.S. My watch fell out of the bag on this trip, I suspect here.
It was a Seiko Silver Wave from the 1970s.]

We took off quite late but made up the time en route. A
pretty, agreeable blonde FA. Uneventful flight. A pair of
Glenlivets. We landed at 11:39 but didn't get to the gate
until 12:10, which irritated some. I figured I had time for
a beer at the club anyhow.

US1103 CLT DFW 1305 1436 321 3C Empower off

This was the route on which there was F availability, so I
took it, despite its getting me to LAS 3 hours later than
the nonstop. Makes sense to me.

I lingered a bit long at the club and moseyed up as they
were calling zone 4. There was only one slot in the overhead
bins, but luckily mine was the only seat left up front.

The F FA was poker-faced but attentive, and every time I
looked up, there was another whisky ready to be drunk:
Glenlivets, 6 of them.

We got in more or less on time, so I had plenty of time to
explore the BBQ options for which this airport is so well
known. Nothing really stood out in a positive way, no
surprise as they all truck the food in from the commissary.

Railhead, near D18, offered brisket out of a water bath -
the meat suffered both in flavor and texture; it was
distinctly substandard, though the sauce wasn't too sweet.

The others at least slice to order, though from meat wrapped
in plastic film.

Cousins, near D28, gave me half a pound of way too lean but
well smoked brisket (I asked for fatty, but the counterman
merely chuckled); its sauce was nice, celery-seed heavy.

Dickey's, in the E terminal, undersmokes its meat. Both pork
ribs and brisket had an okay fat-meat ratio, erring on the
side of lean; the sauce was similar to Cousins' but sweeter.
The staff were by far the friendliest of the lot.

For some reason this airport spooks me out in general. I'm
glad that we RCC people can use the PC, whose physical plant
and booze selection underwhelm, though the staff are cheery,
and the concierge said goodbye to me by name. Dos Equis
lager is the best offered.

US 396 DFW LAS 1720 1809 319 2A no Empower

The US gates seem unbelievably remote, even though they
probably aren't. The gate staff were surprisingly good.

Double Glenlivet before takeoff, which was late. Thereafter
Bud Lights, as I was getting hideously thirsty.

Another full flight. I slept off and on between Bud Lights
(I was mighty thirsty) and have no idea why the flight
didn't make up any time en route, so we landed quite late.

Hot-footed it to Shilla, where I met a table packed with
FTers and an empty table. As I was moderately late but
there was the possibility of a few more arrivals, this
became a full table and a half table. It turned out that
our 4-top stayed that way until FlyinHawaiian showed up
just as we finished eating - luckily there was some food
left for him to nosh on: not enough to justify the "tons
of meat" that he texted to FortFun, but enough.

I can't speak for the food at the other table, but our
banchan included potato and carrot salad, sweet-sour
bean sprouts, vinegared turnip shreds, turnip kimchi,
zucchini kimchi, regular kimchi, and something that looked
like bamboo shoot slices, tasted a little fishy, and was
determined by consensus to be a bean curd product.

After some discussion we just decided to go with the mixed
beef bbq for $90 and said to be enough for 4 to 6. This
started off with a big ribeye, which was partially grilled
whole and then cut into pieces by the waiter with a pair
of scissors and finished in bite-size pieces. Then deckle
meat, soy marinated sirloin, shredded kalbi meat, and more
soy marinated sirloin, offered because the rest of the
table had vetoed the fifth standard offering, tongue.
A large number of beers doubled the tab at our table.

Some of us opted to go to Main Street Station for pai gow
and such; Ripper3785, his bride, and I got a ride in the
back of a truck whose cab was taken by a number of Martys,
who declined to join us at the tables but went off to parts
unknown (I believe the Strip).

At the casino bar, pints of the fairly respectable beers
brewed on premises cost $1.50 - which takes the sting out
of losing - one of our number, handle forgotten, real name
Grant, won 50 on the slots, while Ms. Ripper and I lost 60.
I trust jswong, BoyAreMyArmsTired, and FlyinHawaiian did
okay at the tables.

At length and after several more beers we went our ways, and
I retired to my quite acceptable, nothing special room for
my first decent night's sleep in quite a while.

Breakfast for me was at 8: leftover brisket from Dickey's
(now congealed into a pleasant fattiness) and a few shreds
of leftover rib meat (now dried out and seriously needing
the sauce), stored above the air conditioner overnight.

I forgot which In'n'Out people were going to and couldn't
find anybody's phone number to call. Ah, well, I wasn't
hungry anyhow, and to me In'n'Out's just another burger,
okay, I know it's FT heresy, but there are plenty of fine
burgers out there. Plus I prefer the thick bloody style to
the thin (In'n'Out, Five Guys, etc.) style.

The day was spent snoozing, taking advantage of those 1.50
drafts, and mucking around on the Internet (free in the
lobby). Tried to find decent tix to Turkey but failed.
Resisted the call of the slots.

I had the do not disturb sign on for the duration.

Later in the afternoon I went to the Strip and walked around
until, sufficiently baked, it was time to go to Batista's:
I was the first there and discovered that the house wine,
not hideous, was $6 a pop (it is poured freely at dinner).
At the bar, it was served cold, which was fine, as a thermo
somewhere read 44, about a dozen above my comfort zone. But
it's a dry heat, I managed to croak to nobody in particular.

Around 8 people came in, and we ended up with maybe 20,
not quite the number expected.

One needn't go home hungry or sober from this place.

For starters, copious baskets of very garlicky bread come
out, followed by "super salad" and then the main course. I
had the mellifluous minestrone and cannelloni, the former a
nice broth heavily enriched with vegetables and cheese, the
latter substantial pasta packages, not exactly cannelloni,
really, perhaps cannelloni malfatti, with a pleasantly
seasoned meat mixture (seemed beef, pork, a little spinach)
and topped with a nutmegged white sauce. On the side pretty
decent chopped spinach. On the whole people seemed pleased
with the price-performance ratio - the salad, lasagna,
eggplant Parm, and cioppino got good notices, though BAMAT
found her chicken substantially overdone.

For bev you get red wine (almost dry, unidentifiable,
decent) or white wine (quite sweet, tasted like rotten
cantaloupe juice) or Adam's ale.

"Homemade cappuccino" finishes off the meal - a quite sweet
hot chocolate with a little weak coffee substance topped
with reddiwipoid, not unpleasant at all, sort of right for
the setting, but not what you'd hoped for, either.

The Fremont Street Experience topped off our evening, with
the awesome light show (what's the opposite of psychedelic?)
and drinks and gambling at the Golden Nugget, where thanks
to Ripper's pointing out that my beer had been comped
(looking at the bill, I thought, five bucks for a bottle,
what's that all about, but there's some fine print that I
didn't understand, being a total babe in the woods), I
actually cashed out a couple bucks ahead.

I figured it was time to go and reserve tickets for the noon
Tina Martini show, so it was goodbye time, and back to Main
Street and the free wi-fi. It took me several tries to get
Ticketmaster to take the charge, but eventually it did.

Woke up pretty early ... bent over to pick up something and
saw a blob I didn't think had been there before, off in the
corner, but my vision isn't great, so I can't guarantee that
- it was a large roach. Scooped it up - it was upside down
and fairly dried out - and flushed it. On reflection, I
decided this wasthe way that the staff get people to take
off the do not disturb sign, so I didn't do that, so
housekeeping didn't get any satisfaction for the loss of
its prop.

I went downstairs at 6 to get beer for breakfast but thought
better of it and just did the e-mail.

Melville had told me about the free shuttle to the M from
Fashion Show Mall, so off I went, saving Mrp Alert a trip to
the SSTT to pick me up. The bus - nobody seems to know this
- leaves from the deserted north side of the mall. I'd kept
inquiring - none of the shop people knew, and none of the
security people knew. Finally I found a waiter at
Stripburger who pointed knowingly around the corner. I
thanked him, turned the corner onto, surprise, Fashion Show
Lane, and found the shuttle but no Melville. Barbie the
driver obligingly waited an extra few minutes before leaving
and slowed down at the regular bus stop and the stop on
Spring Mountain so I could look - no such luck. So off I
went, only passenger on a bus I hadn't known existed 12
hours earlier.

There was a big hoopla getting my tickets. Ticketmaster had
managed to screw up my reservation, so when I presented
myself at Studio B to get my credentials, I was deemed to be
unknown: it was suggested that the concierge at the front
might be able to help. So I trooped back and eventually
found Nancy, a cutish woman of about my age, who took charge
of me, found someone capable of dealing with Ticketmaster,
and got my tickets printed; so just in the nick of time we
were good to go. Only three of us - Mrp Alert; Melville, who
had ended up circling the mall, not finding anything looking
like a shuttle stop, and taken a taxi; and me.

Tina Martini at the M is billed as the only cooking show in
town; I'm told it gets broadcast on cable somewhere. The
chef is a bouncy, somewhat overenthusiastic fifty-odd, who
calls herself a chef, nutritionist, and entertainer,
something like that. She does seem pretty likeable, and she
does have decent technique (except see below), but I get a
little antsy about her nutritional expertise.

Our segment featured the M classic bloody Mary, not really
special, and beef Wellington, somewhat more special. Tina
was amusing, and she can cook; her schtick is a bunch of
nutritionist talk that I thought detracted from the flow
and failed to convince me of the health benefits of bloody
Marys and beef Wellington. We got recipe handouts (the
secret ingredient of the M bloody Mary is "au jus") and one
entitled "Phyto Nutrient Chart," containing a load of
breathless and partially baseless claims ... starts with the
statement "Phytochemicals, also known as Photonutrients, are
naturally occurring chemicals in plants that give fruits,
vegetables, grains, and legumes their medicinal, disease-
preventing, health-enhancing properties. Phytonutrients are
supercharged antioxidants." Et cetera :rolleyes:

Also on hand for the show was the house butcher, who told us
that all the beef served there was organically free-range
raised at the M's own ranch in Montana and butchered on
premises. Following which he taught us how to trim a filet
for the table (discarding things I would not discard, or
maybe he uses them in his "au jus").

We got samples of the star foods - a half-size cocktail that
was way too garlicky for me and way too unboozy and that
included some crushed pepper that got stuck in my teeth,
followed by an appetizer-size Wellington that tasted pretty
good but was way less rich (never trust a nutritionist chef)
than I thought right.

At one point during the show Tina cut herself with an
overenthusiastic flourish with the chef knife, and she
finished the show with her hand wrapped in a napkin. I'm not
so certain this segment is going to make it on the air.

After this all, we got to eat at the famed buffet, bypassing
the line (apparently quite substantial), which is a great
advantage. The wines were Nathanson Creek; I had the Cab,
which was okay if a little inkish. Others included M lager,
a reasonably hopped and clean brew, PBR, some other infra
dig light product, and an interesting pinkish fairly tasty M
cider that was only intermittently available.

Mrp Alert ate only a couple plates, apologizing that he was
unable to do justice to buffets the way he used to; well,
Melville, older than he, at least matched him, and I, close
to twice his age, destroyed five, count 'em, plates of food.

What I had:

enormous snow crab clusters, about 2 lb of them. These were
excellent and worth the price of the entire outing

oysters on the half shell - good but (as is true everywhere
these days) when not consumed, left on the table with the
new ones just put on top; a bad practive, as someone's going
to get sick from the ones on the bottom, sooner or later

steamed mussels and Manila clams - not too popular, so not
frequently replenished, so sort of tired

rib roast - Chef Tina made a big thing about how the M grew
its own cattle, and free range means healthier, blah blah
blah. This meat was notably firm of texture, relatively low
in fat. I asked for the rarest piece, which turned out to be
much more done (medium at least) than I like

kalbi ribs - just like at the Korean store, but leaner (boo)

Penang beef - almost fatally hot, and I can heat food as hot
as almost anyone can. Flavors of lemongrass and citrus came
or rather crawled out under the heat.

This made up the bulk of my meal; I also took some discarded
skin from the rotisserie chicken, which I otherwise ignored,
as it didn't look inspiring; the turkey breast next to it
looked downright forlorn.

Things I might have had but didn't have room for:

mahi-mahi on a bamboo plank; pork Nicoise (cutlets with
olives, tomatoes, and capers); pasta dishes; eggplant parm
made with insufficiently fried vegetable in little chunks -
I tested a piece with the side of the serving spoon and
found it resilient in the way cited by people who don't like
eggplant; tri-tip (way too done for me); chicken in red and
green curry (too full by the time I found this); salads,
both green and composed; ossobuco (actually, this looked
peculiar, big chunks of thick bone with no marrow in sight,
and I probably wouldn't have tried it); chicken adobo.

Mrp Alert excused himself, as he had a father to deal with
or something, but there was an hour or more before the bus
back to the Strip, so Melville and I, neither of us dessert
persons, came back from the dessert station with red wine
and

creme caramel - okay, a little rubbery, more Spanish-style
than French-style

creme brulee (in the sugar-free section) - a somewhat
tasteless brulee with a nice sugar crust (or was it a new
sugar substitute that brulees like the real thing?)

bread pudding - standard, high quality

chocolate mousse concoction layered with crisp wafer -
interesting, very rich

chocolate-pecan pie - good and fresh but way too sweet and
way too rich

warm chocolate cake in a little tin cup - pretty good.

There were 200 items in total, of which I tried 10 to 15.

There was still half an hour before the shuttle, so Melville
introduced me to the pleasures of the penny slots, and I
introduced her to Nancy the concierge; after which Barbie
took us back to the Fashion Show Mall.

Melville went off to freshen up; as I'm a guy and freshening
up usually involves splashing a couple ounces of water on my
face, I wandered the Strip for a while and then met up with
jswong at the Wynn, where I proceeded to lose on the slots
at a rapid rate, while he won a modest amount. Luckily we're
both fairly sedate about this, so I lost under a hundred (in
a few minutes), and he kept his winnings.

Melville rejoined us at Red 8 at the Wynn, which I'd wanted
to try. We sauntered up, and the hostess asked if we had a
reservation: of course not. Are you resident at the hotel?
jswong said, does the Encore count, and next thing we knew
we were in the funny little alcove six-top where passers-by
look curiously at one as if we were some exotic species. The

prices were about double what I'm accustomed to, but the
portions were also double, and the quality was excellent.

As Melville and I had recently eaten, we weren't too
enthusiastic about eating, but jswong hadn't eaten all day.
We ended up with three huge dishes anyway - and did good
work on them.

A barbecue plate - pork, duck, and chicken - was served
Hong Kong-style, on a bed of legumes (sometimes soybeans,
here peanuts). The pork was somewhat fatty, very tender,
better than the red things you see hanging in shop windows
in Chinatowns everywhere; the duck was standard but very
moist and crisp, a fine iteration; and the chicken, though
sweet rather than salty, was also nice.

Salt-chile soft-shell crab seemed overpriced at $24, but
what came was six larges, and considering that the cheapest
I can get frozen ones at is $4 each, I began to smell a fix.
The crabs were excellent, nicely prepared, and we felt glad
to be taken care of by Dr. jswong at the Encore.

String beans in XO sauce were completely perfectly done,
just crisp, just tender, and the sauce - though there was no
discernible conpoy - extremely savory.

Forstmeister Geltz Riesling (Zilliken) 08 had jumped right
out as a bargain at under $40, so we got that - rather more
luscious than a standard-issue table wine should be, flowery
and aromatic, good tropical and pineapply fruit, a tad sweet
but very smooth. Quite nice.

All in all a most satisfying meal, and almost a bargain, and
in that setting, too. But all good things come to an end.

We wandered around the Wynn, I lost a couple more bucks, and
after we said our goodbyes, and I went back north on the
Deuce, which though direct was extremely slow.

Next day I joined Melville after checking out; we took some
bus or other down to Mandalay Bay, whence the plan was to
work our way up the wonderland to Luxor and Excalibur, then
New York, MGM Grand, and who knows.

For some reason Mandalay Bay, which I'd never seen in
daylight, took up more time than I'd thought. We lunched at
Hussong's, which has Negra Modelo on draft, a good thing.

Our waitress, from Oregon, was pleasant though ditsy. I
think she thought her Spandex pants falling down to her
butt crack was alluring. She was cute, but it didn't work.

Chips and salsa, probably local and definitely not a mass
produced product, did work, the thickish, slightly oily
tortillas very nice, and the two salsas - a cooked red
pureed one (hot) and a probably uncooked green one (not)
went well with.

We each ordered three tacos, which followed the Las Vegas
standard procedure - they cost more than they would about
anyplace else, but you get more to eat, as well. Her three:
steak, chicken, carnitas (pork). Mine: beef marrow, beef
cheek, and beef tongue. The marrow were out, so I
substituted carnitas. They were all good - my favorite was
the tongue, as the cheek I thought had been underbraised
and the carnitas, though tasty, a bit stringy.

Rice (rather industrial) and frijoles borrachos (quite good
stewed pink beans, I'm farting just thinking about them a
day later) came with.

Went back to the Ren, to visit* for a while, and then I
excused myself to walk up to the Hilton. The bellman tried
to convince me to take a cab (all of half a mile), but I
promised him I wouldn't take heatstroke and die.

The Hilton is a little lower-key than most of the other
places - it either doesn't have an identity, or its custom
is staider (read: older) than elsewhere. It's got 3000
rooms and is said to be the largest of all Hiltons; still,
its design makes it pretty easy to navigate.

The check-in girl looked at my elderliness and cheerily
told me that I had a room right near the elevator (my
HHonors profile reads "away from elevator"), so I protested
citing my hearing and at length was issued a fairly nice
room with almost nobody around me in the underutilized
east tower; it looked a little old and beaten down, though,
and I doubt the check-in girl's claim that it was a newly
renovated room and the manager's welcome letter claim of it
being a premium room. And it appears to be or to recently
have been a smoking room. Bathroom: pretty nice, big oval
tub (though old style), snazzy pressure flush toilet (which
doesn't always work quite right). Bed: comfy. A/C: somewhat
inadequate, but when you're dealing with 12 hours a day
over 100 and the rest over 90, one can forgive an 80 degree
room. View: bleak. The water tasted sort of like Roquefort,
which is sort of how the corridors smelled. This remedied
by a few seconds' running the tap.

No more Star Trek Experience.

Gold amenities:

daily free breakfast for two; two free waters per stay;
daily free parking; daily free health club access.

Extreme generosity (from the breakfast buffet coupon) :
"Children two (2) and under eat free when accompanied
by an adult."

Diamond amenity:

entrance into the VIP lounge, which is the offices behind
the front desk, equipped with about 8 chairs, some of which
are mostly for use of customers of the concierge desk,
sparkling who knows what kind of wine, and beer and Coke:
not conducive to lingering. I had a couple Heinekens.

Fortuna in the lobby bills itself as "a coffee and wine
experience"; it has an Enomatic system, which dispenses
neutral-gassed wine using a card system.

Beaune Clos de Feves 05 (Chanson), $3.50/oz - a bargain;
cherry, wood smoke, stems - very long stemmy finish. A good
wine in a price range that I can't easily afford any more.
Not stellar, but rather nice, and somewhat better than

Nuits St.-Georges 1er cru 05 (Jean St. Honore), 1.50 or
2.75/oz - there were two stations, one at each price -
the 1.50 was billed as 2002, the 2.75 as 2007; both
bottles were 2005 - pineapple and light red fruits, meaty,
a little too acid, medium finish of plums and stems.

Bleasdale Mulberry Tree Cabernet (Langhorne Creek) 05,
1.25/oz - vanilla and blackberry; as with many Aussies, a
bit of sweetness gives a bit of a milkshake impression;
blackberry finish. I got a little of this to finish off a
prepaid card.

I drank more of the Nuits at 1.50 then the Beaune, as it was
a better deal and an almost as good wine. You will notice
too that both of these were offered at close to retail, a
huge surprise.

They had Smith Haut Lafitte 2000 for $36 a bottle. I was
very excited and considered checking a bag back. But then I
noticed that it was the blanc, which wasn't that terrific to
begin with and must certainly be over by now.

* in the lobby, dirty mind people.

Decent night's rest in the comfy bed.

Here's what I had at the buffet breakfast, which is in the
sports betting area:

NY steak and onions - done beyond well done, thin, but quite
palatable all the same in a burned amateur grillmaster way

hash - from a can but good; not too too salty

gr beef florentine - the gr stands for ground; Greek would
make it a moronic oxymoron - about the only savory thing on
the buffet that wasn't too salty, which made it tasteless
by comparison; it was, however, an interesting and maybe
worthwhile addition

sausage links - standard, better than the ones so proudly
served at the M

sausage patties - standard but limp, not so good

bacon - very crisp, not very smoky - okay

smoked salmon - standard, pretty good

chicken-fried steak - an abomination, thick crust that was
hard to cut or chew, sort of a protective scab on the meat,
which was that processed prechewed stuff, so you had hard
somewhat bad-tasting coating over mushy somewhat bad-tasting
meat

country gravy - pretty good actually

biscuits and sausage gravy - didn't have a biscuit, but the
gravy was the same country gravy with bits of sausage patty
cut into it; not bad

grilled pork chops - extremely salty and somewhat dried out
from the steamtable, but lots of onions and garlic almost
redeemed them

assorted fruit - I had strawberries, quite fragrant, sweet,
and good; grapefruit segments at least not from a can and
reasonably okay.

I went back to the room to sleep off the heavy salt and
cholesterol intake. Somewhat surprised to wake up at all, I
woke up and wandered about town - buses down Sahara and up
Desert Inn with a lengthy stop at the West Sahara library,
where the art gallery was a disappointment but the wi-fi
acceptable.

I thought to save a couple bucks and go to Piero's for
dinner. It's really, really dark in there, and by the time
my eyes adjusted to discover that this isn't a red checked
tablecloth place, nor even a white tablecloth place, but a
starched white tablecloth place, it was too late. And when
de waitair wees de fonee frahnsh acsahn said that the osso
buco had lots of marrow, I was sold.

The wine list - amazing, but I am not going to pay 6 to 15x
retail for wine. So I had the waitair recite the beer list,
which was dull, Bud Bud Light Coors Coors Light Peroni; I
asked if there was Sam, and he said he'd go to the other
bar and check. He came back with a Sam Summer, opened. Ah
well, it's not horrible.

The osso buco comes in a red wine sauce with indiscernible
porcini mushrooms and what have to be the best noodles
outside Italy. The meat itself, described as "falling off
the bone," not so good. Not bad, and indeed falling off
the bone, but not the best veal ever eaten, a bit tough
in fact but of decent flavor. Lots of marrow as promised.

I was thirstful, and even wheat beer went down well, so I
flagged down the next waitperson - a cute blonde - and asked
her to recite the beer list just because. The first words
that came out of her mouth: Sierra Nevada. For a fraction of
a second I wanted to strangle the waitair and kiss the
pretty blonde.

The osso buco was $42 something, $5 more than at the Hilton.
I may try it at the Hilton for comparison.

Back to the hotel: jaywalk across Convention Center Blvd, go
in by the (now closed) information booth, up the elevator
(escalators long silent), down innumerable deserted
corridors (I could feel the gaze of hundreds of spy cameras
on me), and behold, Skybridge to Las Vegas Hilton. Which
lets you off outside at the rear end of the Hilton meeting
facility, from whence it's another couple hundred yards to
the casino and then some more to the hotel proper.

I went back to the pathetic VIP lounge, which by this time
looked like a BA crew room (I'd say a 747 must be going
tonight), for a couple Heinekens and a handful of mixed
nuts. And a brief chat with a cute and friendly concierge.

Breakfast was a carbon copy of the previous one, except I
was there much earlier, so the NY steak with onions was
kind of medium rather than "ruint," as Larry Bird used to
say on some commercial or other. Also I found that the
onions that smothered the pork chops could do a great job of
redeeming the gr beef Florentine. And that there's a limit
to the amount of smoked salmon I can eat.

In-room literature claims free wi-fi at Fortuna so I got my
gear and paid for another wine card (it should be a pleasure
reading FT and sipping hotel Burgundy at retail), and I
couldn't connect. So back to the desk only to find they
haven't had free wi-fi for three years. Off to the concierge
- who after saying incredulously that there wasn't free
wi-fi for two years comped me a day's wi-fi.

The heat, though not so horrid as before, was getting
tiresome, so given that they'd caved on the wi-fi, I spent
minimal time in the atmosphere and maximal time at Fortuna
and in the increasingly comfy bed in the room.

I took my glass of wine off to Casa Nicola to see if they
would accept my 20 off for two coupon as a 10 off for one,
but the hostess didn't even acknowledge my presence, so
eff her, forget this, the Yelp reviews are underwhelming
anyhow. Had a couple 241 and a couple free booze coupons so
went off to use them. An amusing bartender at the sports bar
- Hawaiianish guy, used to work at Western Airlines, cajoled
me into doing some poker, whence I won enough for supper,
because I'd set my sights lower than Casa Nicola. The 241s
were unattractive, as the drinks they were good for were
over $10 each. The freebies were good for Wild Turkey, so
that was a plus.

Tres Rios, the closest place to the east tower, has happy
hour from 9 to 11, so that's where I had supper. Two beers
and a gigantic order of decent beef taquitos (probably
from a Trader Joe's frozen bag or the equivalent), $10.
I had a coupon for $10. Perfect. Only I'd forgot I had
the coupon.

Next day I couldn't turn on the computer. Hot-footed it to
a shop, which told me to restore Windows and sold me a
disk for $50 ... it didn't work. BIOS error message that
I didn't have a hard disk. Crapola.

79c a minute Internet at the business center meant that the
rest of my stay was to be disconnected.

There was a basketball tournament going on at the convention
center next door (you have to go past the hotel meeting
rooms, across a very hot driveway, and up an escalator to
get there - a terrible defect of planning or budget, failing
to provide an air-conditioned walkway between facilities).
Packs of very tall teenagers roaming the corridors, the
crazy-making constant sound of a dribbling ball one floor
above, chaperones whining. On the whole, the kids were
harmless rubes though rather on the noisy side.

For reasons I won't go into, I switched to another room
in the supposedly tonier north tower - smaller, uglier,
and mildewier but with a better view.

Dinner: I thought of that splendid meal at the Wynn and
decided to check out the poultry situation here. Tried
to call to make a reservation at Garden of the Dragon
downstairs but couldn't connect, so I simply walked there
and booked a table for one and half a Peking duck, I'd
be back in a couple hours to collect. And so it was. The
restaurant shares airspace with Benihana Village, whose
neon SUSHI sign was visible from my table - I also had a
view of the electronic fake fireworks that periodically
disrupted my tranquil meal. When I was seated I told the
waitress that I had preordered my meal; she tried to
upsell me with soup or appetizers, which I refused gently
(half a duck is a bunch of food). A cup of respectably
spicy and sour hot and sour soup came unbidden. The duck
itself was also respectable though more of your ordinary
roast than the extra crispy skinned Peking real thing.
Came with an abundance of scallions and hoisin and four
biscuit-size steamed buns (man tou) rather than the
more fiddly but more classic thin pancakes. It was an
ample and satisfying meal, with pretty good service and
Sapporo beer. I toddled upstairs and fell asleep heavily.

from the Deodorant DO
 

On checkout, it turned out that the hotel's computer
system was munged, and when they got it working again,
it had miraculously charged up my abortive reservation
call as long distance.

The Paradise bus is a great way to get to the airport
from the Hilton, and I transformed myself (attitudinally
mostly, the appearance not so changed) from exalted
Diamond to working grunt on public transport. You get
dropped off at the Morlocks level and then find your way
upward by degrees. The multi-airline chickens couldn't
find my reservation, so I had to face a real person, who
had a bit of trouble retrieving my record and chid me
because I was on a United ticket, and that was the problem.

Security was over in a jiffy, and I had plenty of time to
while away, computerless, in the uninviting waiting area.
Wheel! of! Fortune!!!

US1550 LAS PHX 1235 1344 321 3F

Boarding was an amusing menagerie of the peculiar behaviors
we have all come to know and love. I was pretty far ahead in
the line and was surprised to find a fellow elbowing his way
forward with some vigor. I looked at him and said, "pardon?"
whereupon he said that he was in first class. I got to use
the classic line, so are the rest of us. He looked somewhat
abashed and concocted some story about how sometimes they
board zone 1 with first class, and sometimes they don't, and
he flies so often he forgets the procedures, at which the
person behind me dissolved into giggles. Mr. elbows turned
out to be sitting catty-corner from me, so I got to hear
his phone conversation - "I've got to go now, I'm sitting
in FIRST CLASS on a PLANE, and they may take my phone away
from me ... ." The appropriateness of the snack struck me:
an abundance of Kettle potato chips (the regular kind, not
the extremely salty sea-salt-and-cracked-black-pepper ones
that they have taken to serve in the club).

A perfectly fine flight, with Glenlivet, except that the 321
has the most cramped feeling of any first-class cabin I've
ever been in. The pitch, I swear, is worse than what I used
to enjoy in coach on Eastern Airlines (back when flying was
flying), and the 2x2 vs. 3x3 issue isn't so important to me
as my butt hasn't gotten too enormous over the last 50 years
- I sleep better in 3x3 anyway. Had nearly an hour in the
club, as both flights were within spitting distance of it
and each other. Munched on various kinds of cookies from
the cookie box, enjoyed the cheap (free) Merlot, and
reminisced with other patrons about an ancient beverage
(from around those Eastern Airlines days) called the Moscow
Mule, of which we all had fond feelings.

US 46 PHX DCA 1445 2159 320 2C

Boarding was less of a zoo. The flight was fine - I passed
on the alcohol, deciding to give my liver a rest - and we
came in a bit late, not enough to bother me. I believe that
there was not a meal on this flight, or else I slept through
it.

I enlisted some assistance from my friends in the biz, who
swapped out hard disks, reinstalled Windows, got all the
drivers back (difficult with no Internet access, but I
cleverly was carrying a 4G thumb drive and a portable
hard disk just in case). The thing isn't working right yet,
but it's working.