why can't I delete a message altogether if I screwed it up to begin with, assuming I've written it in the first place?

[This message has been edited by violist (edited 03-09-2000).]

Hi ... I'm a definite newbie here who has been posting trip reports in various other places for years (anyone here from the old RIME?) and who has only now, idle from an arm injury, blundered into this forum. Trip report 2/11 to 2/23, mostly recycled from something originally posted in RIME Cuisine.
UA 723, BOS-IAD. I was the only rev in the Premier Zone: I'd thought of upgrading to first, but then cheapness got the better of me - an hour in the air, no meal, no movie, no service, and the first seats in the 320 are nothing to write home about anyhow. They filled first with non-revs, and then the
Premier Zone with non-revs, leaving the rear of the plane to the ordinary fare-paying schmoes. (In their defense, they said that every butt in first class should be matched by one in the back third of the plane, for balance reasons). I was doing my usual doze when the purser (UA people outnumbered
the customers) greeted me by name and in honor of my exalted FF status got me my favorite plane drink, Courvoisier VSOP, on the house. Uneventful flight, landed just a tad early.
UA 7274, IAD-BWI. Got to the gate, and they said, we're putting you on a taxi, there's no plane. I asked how many others were supposed to be on the flight, and they said, just you. So I took the taxi, which promptly got stuck in rush hour traffic on the Beltway. Okay, so this poor driver is stuck

with a passenger on voucher (negotiated fare), and as there are noncom agreements between the Dulles cabbies and the BWI ones, he was faced with an empty trip back. So, total time for maybe $40-50 in revenue to the cab company (of which he would get what? half?) was anticipated at 4 hours. What to

do? He found some BWI cab that had just dropped someone off at Dulles, coming back empty, and flagged the driver down. "I give you $20 to take this guy to BWI!" he shouted. Quickly I was roused from my slumber, and so in the left lane on the beltway, horns honking all over the place, the transfer
was made, and I got to BWI 2 hours after my flight had been due had it taken off at all (turns out they eventually had run it, taking off half and hour after I arrived at the destination gate, where I met my ride who was just hunkering down for a long long wait). cotd

UA 1477 BWI-ORD. I had 10A on a 767-300 (or so res had it), but when I got to the gate they'd changed equipment to a -200, and reassigned me to the wayback of the plane. Of course they knew what I would do, I upgraded. Despite the fact there was no food on the flight. The 762 was much less comfy
than the usual - there aren't any overhead air vents, and the seats are getting threadbare and thin. It was, though, a perfectly okay flight.
UA 143 ORD-SFO. I'd never flown coach on a DC-10, and even though the gate agent virtually guaranteed I'd get upgraded at ORD if I wanted, I decided to keep my row 10 seat, just to see what it was like. Mistake. They switched equipment again, from a 10-10 to a -30, so instead of an exit row with

about 5 feet of legroom I found myself behind the lavatory, albeit still in the first row of coach. And the lav wasn't working, owing to it leaking, which made this part of the cabin smell less than fine. Lunch was brisket (pretenderized, somewhat tasteless), garlic mashed potatoes (excellent,

surprisingly), succotash, and two Oreo cookies for dessert. Once I learned to ignore the smell of leaking disinfectant with a faint urinary tinge, it was an okay flight. Turns out, too, that the seat I would have gotten was given to an elderly lady who plays the viola, so I didn't feel too bad.

UA 954 SFO-LHR. This tale starts at the RCC in the International Departures area. I decided to check out the Lufthansa lounge, to which I am theoretically allowed admittance. The concierge challenged me, saying in a thick German accent that I must go to the RCC. I said, well, can I just have a

look around? She smiled (German ladies can be charming when they smile) and said, sure. It's really tiny and built in a sort of 1950s style, and the snacks aren't great. So I muttered "klein aber fein" to her and hightailed it to the RCC which was doubling as the Virgin Upper Class lounge. The
upshot of this was that although the Japanese yummies were out (a Tokyo flight had just left) they had Virgin snacks as well as the usual lame United ones. There was guacamole

and veggies (yum), ham and cheese sandwiches, roast beef sandwiches, and chicken salad. I tried it all, it was all good. Good thing I ate well there, as the plane food was pretty plain.

We got onto this nice triple, filing past the new sleeper seats (United First Suite), which looked sort of uncomfortable to me, but maybe that was envy, past the rather nice C seats, and to the rear cabin. I had the window in the second row of coach and was pleased to find a pretty businesswoman

next to me. We chatted away for a while (I offered her some of my Pringles, which I take on long flights in coach because they put me to sleep) and then dinner, so called, was served. Started with provolone and tomatoes and balsamic vinaigrette (okay as far as that goes - I gave her my provolone,

as I don't like the stuff), a puny little green salad with the same balsamic vinaigrette (okay as far as that goes), and then just as we were beginning to munch our starter, and the movie (The Red Violin) was starting, the plane was struck with severe bumpies of the mountain wave action sort, which

made my seatmate, up to now a suave world traveler, a lump of terrified jelly. It was turbulent enough so I was glad not to have asked for my glass of wine (Duboeuf Cabernet du Pays d'Oc), as I'd have been wearing it. Eventually things calmed down, and we were served "marinated beef brisket

accompanied by mashed potatoes and green beans"; mine was ice cold, so I sent it back. It came back at almost boiling temperature. The dinner was almost exactly what I'd had for lunch, only not as good, although they had snuck some cumin into the gravy. Dessert was "triple chocolate brownie

bash," which was okay if a bit oversweet and heavy. After the movie I went to sleep, missing the "midflight snack - enjoy our movie snack" and waking up to a decent fruit plate and croissant. We got in about an hour ahead of time, as we'd had tail winds the whole way.

[This message has been edited by violist (edited 03-09-2000).]

UA 931 LHR-SFO. Got to the airport in about an hour 15 on the tube (I'd thought of taking the Heathrow Express, which would have taken about half the time but at a cost of something like $20). Checked in at the F/1K desk, which had a line of one, as
compared to the C-class desk, which had a line of about 20, or the Y one, for which it looked like there was a half-hour wait. Had been assigned 8A, first row of C, but as I thought we'd be skirting Greenland on the south I changed to 13J in the
second C cabin. Took the Fast Lane, which last time had taken seconds; this time it took something like 20 minutes, as it was almost as crowded as the regular line. Passed security and customs, did a bit of duty-free, and then had breakfast (some
rather yucky Danish and several glasses of wine) at the RCC; then, still feeling peckish, I tried to go back to the departure area where there was an oyster bar. I was given the full patdown at the little return gate, pretty weird as this was supposed
to be all in a secure area. Turned out oysters were $3 each and didn't look big or fresh, so I gave up on that and went to the plane. Got on and found myself sitting next to an affluent-looking, plump Scots-Irishman who spent half his time eating and
half his time reading yachting and car magazines. Turns out - so much for my clever plan to ditch my primo seat for a secundo one on the more scenic side of the aircraft - that we were routed away north of all that, well into King Christian Land, way
up over the Arctic Circle to the 70th parallel, which we followed for a couple thousand miles over Baffin and Victoria Islands - I'd wanted to see Hudson's Bay, too, but we were in fact a couple hundred miles north of it. Then south over Alberta and
to the coast. Funny thing was that this ascent took us right over Inverness, a neighborhood I know vaguely, and I inordinately impressed my seatmate and the blonde FA by calling this from 31000 feet. One doesn't expect a middle-aged Asian-American with
weak eyes to be able to point out Dalcross airport. We cruised at 340 and went over Canada at 390 (great views of the frozen Arctic wastes, when the clouds parted; otherwise, great views of the Pratt & Whitney Dependable Engines logo on the gigantic
80,000 lb thrust jet), climbing to 410 to avoid some turbulence. The movies were Mystery, Alaska; Three to Tango; The Muse; The Thomas Crown Affair (why for the remake they had the gall to misspell the title I can't figure); Runaway Bride; Viva Zapata; [ctd]

and Norma Rae. I watched none of these, being content to look down at ice and mountains. Landed right on time, passed customs in seconds (after waiting in line for some huge amount of time) - they shooed me through the green line even though I'd ticked
the yes box (bringing in tea and chocolate, which I do believe to be "food or agricultural products").
UA 172 SFO-BOS. I was hoping to score seat 1A or 2A, but the plane wasn't full enough for me to be pushed that far forward, so I was content with 8A. A totally uneventful flight, with excellent service (although I was disappointed that the gorgeous
blonde FA was assigned to rows 1 and 2, and the gorgeous eurasian FA was assigned to the other aisle, and our aisle had two handsome guys who, as you can guess, were not my type). Pretty smooth flight, until the singularly badumpity landing, after
which the purser announced "United Airlines, Captain Crunch, and the rest of the crew would like to welcome you to Boston." The movie was some surreal monstrosity called Crazy in Alabama, starring the slinky but comically overacting Melanie Griffith.
The food was the same menu I'd had on the same flight in November: Smoked duck breast with celery remoulade; spinach-mozzarella salad with roast garlic vinaigrette; and pork "charcuterie" enhanced by a white wine, tomato and cornichon sauce, mashed
turnips and potatoes sauteed bok choy with peppers and pearl onions with raisins; followed by Eli's chocolate espresso cheesecake. And guess what? The food this time was uniformly excellent, although that the orange segments that had come with the duck
last time weren't there, being replaced by half a plum fanned out nicely. But the duck was even better - never frozen, perfectly cooked. And the "charcuterie," actually a lump of tenderloin, was cooked properly this time (last time it was red rare, not
the most appetizing thing for pork that you don't know where it's been), which alas meant that the vegetables were slightly over. They poured the Santa Carolina (Maipo Valley) Cab, which went pretty well. I had extra pills and ate the dessert this time.
They have since I left totally rerouted the traffic at Logan. I stood waiting for the bus for an age before I realized that they've moved the bus stop about a kajillion feet away, from the United area to the AirTran/Alitalia area. Boo, hiss.