Autumn in Prague
 

That Great First Class Feeling

I take any excuse to visit Prague so when Kevin asked me where he should go to play in Europe after giving a seminar in Warsaw I not only recommended Prague but booked a flight to meet him there. With coach airfares around $1400 and my United 1K requalification already assured for 2000 I decided on an award trip. Since United didn’t fly to Prague I booked a Lufthansa award. Unfortunately the phone rep quoted me 100,000 miles for the whole trip but when I went to book it they told me 120,000. No big deal but it eliminated the need to fly Lufthansa, which a couple people had told me wasn’t as good as the United First Suite. So I canceled that booking and instead booked United to Frankfurt, keeping the 20,000-mile Lufthansa award from Frankfurt to Prague and back.

Then I discovered that neither of my United segments actually had the First Suites so I had to cancel the award again and book it through London instead. I had very little problem getting award seats, contrary to what many people report. I think First-Class seats may be easier to get than coach.

Now all I needed was a connection from Heathrow to Prague so I went to a variety of on-line travel agencies and settled on a British Airways round trip through BizTravel.com. They had the on-time guarantee so if the flight arrived a half-hour late I would get $100. Ka-ching! An hour late? $200. Ka-ching! I was stoked. The flight was $322 but I was counting on at least $100 off.

Last night I got a call from Wendy at United confirming my trip and letting me know that someone would meet me curbside at LAX. I said it really wasn’t necessary but she insisted so I said OK. She said to call in advance and let them know what kind of car or limo I would be arriving in. Little did she know that since Hunnybear was tied up at work I decided to start the trip in style so I took the Santa Monica city bus to the airport (50¢). I wheeled my luggage to the end of our driveway where the extremely convenient bus stop was and just missed the 5:14 bus. Another one came eight minutes later though and I changed at the LAX transit center for the airport shuttle which took me through light traffic to Terminal 6.

I had my camera out and took a picture of the United concierge wearing her red carnation, surprised to see me walking rather than driving to her. I identified myself and she escorted me to the private reception area, a sparsely decorated room with her and one other lady sitting at computer terminals. “So this is the secret room!” I said. They allowed as how yes, it was. The other agent checked me in with great rapidity and gave me directions to the International First Class Lounge.

I wheeled down Terminal 7 to just before gate 74 where the lounge was and followed the sign to the International First Class Lounge Elevator but a piece of paper was taped to it with “out of order” written in crayon. I looked around and figured that there were stairs across the hall so I went over there and dragged my luggage kicking and screaming up two flights to the lounge. When I entered there was a woman there complaining that she had to carry her luggage up the stairs so the United employees wisely replied that it wasn’t their fault because they had no control of the elevator. I showed one of the agents my boarding pass and took a seat at a carrel.

It was a nice room, kind of like a Red Carpet Club except with newspapers. They had a small variety of unappetizing cold snacks and an assortment of cheddar, Edam, and Boursin cheeses. There was a self-service bar with coach-quality liquors. A bottle of California champagne was out but not chilled properly. I did have a couple glasses of the ever-popular B.V. Rutherford Cabernet.

At about seven they made an announcement for my flight but by the time I powered down my laptop the concierge had left without me. “Is the elevator fixed yet?” I asked. “You know, they were supposed to fix it by 10:30 this morning.” I suggested that United give a Skycap $100 or $200 and have him carry people’s luggage up and down. She said they’d been talking about it. At any rate I dragged my luggage kicking and screaming down two flights and found my own way to gate 74. There was only one boarding line so I clutched my gold ticket envelope and went up to a frowning agent typing on his computer. “Where’s the First Class checkin?” I asked, smiling. “Didn’t she escort you?” “She left without me.” I had to restrain myself from pouting. He sighed and brought me to a big door marked “Do Not Enter” and let me in. I filtered into the line, entered the 777, and turned left.

In Asia, when you fly First Class, all the employees see you, look surprised and honored, and say, “Oh! First Class! First Class!” They scurry about, bow and scrape, kiss your feet, and anoint you with precious oils if there’s time. After my transpacific flight on Cathay Pacific, the United First Class boarding experience was a letdown. The greeting stewardess simply gave me directions to my seat. Preflight drinks were served in plastic cups. There was no sleep suit, just a big black bag sparsely filled with the same toiletries as in the smaller bag in Business Class. There was no laptop power and the First Suites were already looking a bit shabby. An unenthusiastic flight attendant introduced herself and said she would be working up here. Bully for her. We taxied 20 minutes and then took off for London.

About 20 minutes into takeoff I met Dave, the purser. Smiling, attentive, and sporting a big floppy bowtie, he made announcements like a professional radioman and served wine like a sommelier. I started with a glass of Dom Perignon, which arrived with a small ramekin of warm nuts and a lobster canapé. I had more lobster for my appetizer, tasty but lost in a field of greens and some diced mango. I didn’t like either of the two First Class wines, a Chateuneufdepape and a Merlot, so Dave brought me a Medoc from Business Class that was OK. I thought it was weird for Rhone wine and Merlot to be the only choices. Next came a green salad with choice of accompaniments including white asparagus. I had a little of each except for the cherry tomatoes. My main course was rack of lamb. I always order rack of lamb on airplanes because I’ve never had it screwed up so badly that I couldn’t eat it. This one came out medium and delicious. All the while Dave was coming by refilling my glasses and spooning fresh ice into my water. I asked him to fax me his schedule so I could be on all his flights.

As a rule I don’t eat dessert so I passed on the fruit and cheese and Godiva chocolates and I just had one sundae with Kahlua poured over it. I ordered a decaf coffee black but Dave insisted that I try one of his specialty coffees, an Irish Rose, made with Bailey’s and Amaretto. Yum. All the while I was watching the movie The Skulls, an entertaining flick about Yale secret societies scheming to take over the world. I thought it was a little far-fetched, though. Maybe if it had been Harvard…

I expected the crew to make up the bed for me but they were primarily here for my safety so I made it myself. I missed the sleep suit as I put my blindfold on and nestled down in my nice clothes. I’m not even 5' 10" but my feet felt confined in the First Suite. It seemed like I didn’t sleep at all but the next thing I knew five hours had passed and they were serving breakfast. I wasn’t hungry so I just had some decaf and some water and watched the airshow. We landed at Heathrow 10 minutes early. I shook Dave’s hand and ran straight into the carnation of Chris, my new concierge.

Chris had arranged for them to hold the Arrivals open for me but when he learned I had a connection he suggested it would be preferable to go to the Red Carpet Club and have a shower and work on my computer in the First Class Lounge. That sounded good so we hopped on a people mover and drove several miles to the transit area. I showed him my E-Ticket on British Airways and his reaction was the same as mine: he’d never seen one before. The line was too long at British at the transit center so we retired to the Red Carpet Club where the extremely pleasant steward set me up with a shower. I used the rejuvenating aloe soap cake rather than the invigorating shower gel but I did sample the revitalizing shampoo. A new man, I emerged and set up my laptop. Chris advised me that he had called British and they did indeed have me ticketed in their system so he suggested I head over there around four for my 5:55 flight.


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I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com

You put my thoughts on Asian vs. American FC treatment into words so well. Thank you. http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif

I look forward to the continuation of the trip report.

What is the UA policy on a concierge greeting? It appears to only happen at certain airports. For example, I've experienced it when originating at LAX and PEK, but not BOS.

Also, does a concierge ever meet you if you are arriving on a connecting flight? This has happened to me once (at LAX), where the concierge gave directions to the 1st lounge.

globalstar

Excellent trip report as usual, QL.
Looking forward to the next installments.
I always feel like I'm sitting in the seat next to you, but of course, you are the perfect seatmate!

Linda

Great report, QL!

Tip 1: the Nicolas Feuillatte from C is every bit as good as the Dom, if not better.
Tip 2: the F amenity kit has lip balm, whereas the C one doesn't
Tip 3: don't underestimate S&B: wasn't the most influential a-hole on the planet, William F. Schmuckley, a member?

The only thing better than reading your reports would be being there with you! http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/biggrin.gif

Arrival in Prague

I snapped a photo of Keith, the steward, and told him I’d see him on Thursday on my return. I navigated the labyrinth to the shuttle to Terminal 1 and found it waiting. I boarded and over the next 10 minutes so did too many more other people. The bus finally departed and made the short journey to Terminal 1 where I stood in an enormous line to go through security. The metal detector wasn’t as sensitive as it was at LAX so I got through with no problem and headed for the British Airways checkin.

Chris had advised British Airways that I was a VIP and asked them to consider me for an upgrade but no dice. I was offered a choice of an aisle seat in the center section of the 767, the outside section, or the bulkhead and I took the bulkhead. The agent sent me to the waiting area since no gate had yet been posted for the flight to Prague. I saw that my Alaska Airlines number was printed on the boarding pass, which I had requested when I booked the ticket. I looked around for a possible departure lounge and found the British Airways one. I whipped out my new Centurion card and asked if it got me in but it didn’t and I had no status on OneWorld so I retreated. There was a British Midland lounge that I thought I could get into but when I headed for it I realized I had passed through some kind of security checkpoint. “What have I done?” I asked the guard. “How do I get back where I was?” He asked where I was going and I said, “British Airways.” He said I could just go back the way I came so I gave up on the British Midland lounge and just hung around the shopping mall until they posted my flight.

It turned out my gate was back over toward the British Midland lounge so I went back over there and noted a big fat juicy Star Alliance Gold logo by the door. Doh! I didn’t bother to go in but just continued to the gate. There was a bald sergeant-at-arms checking boarding passes at the entrance so I showed him mine and wheeled through but he stopped me and asked if my carry-on luggage was heavy. “No,” I sad. But he picked it up and practically had a fit. “Oh, that’s too heavy!” he said, and carried it over to a scale. “Cor, that’s almost 22 kilos! You’re only allowed six on an economy ticket!” He started explaining to me that it was a safety issue, as my bag was much too heavy to put in the overhead bin. I allowed as how not only had I put it in the overhead bin every flight for the last 200,000 miles, but everyone else in America had the same bag and they all put it in the overhead bin. “Well, you’ve been lucky then haven’t you?” He tagged it for check-in and I surrendered.

I stood around and after a few minutes they announced boarding for the entire 767 all at once. I swam through the mob and finally got on. The first cabin was 2-3-2 with leather seats except they had done that funny thing in the center section and widened the armrests to make the center seat unusable. The second cabin was 2-3-2 with leather seats as well. But my section had cloth seats! I grumbled, placed my laptop bag in the overhead bin, which was truly tiny, and took my bulkhead seat, an aisle in the center section. I kept smelling people as they passed by. I forgot that Europeans were more liberal in their acceptance of body odor than Americans. Two of the smelly ones sat down right behind me and I kept smelling them throughout the 90-minute flight.

We taxied for a very short time and took off quickly. The light supper was a gelatinous slice of pallid ham dropped on a scoop of something that might have been potato salad. It was accompanied by a white roll, four ounces of water sealed with foil, and a package of cheddar cheese and crackers that inflated under the decreased cabin pressure. I ate the suspicious cheese and drank the water. People kept trying to use the space in front of me as an aisle so after the third time I took my shoes off and put my feet up on the bulkhead, firing up my laptop and practicing my video poker. Stewardesses strolled the aisles aggressively offering refills of coffee and tea with that inimitable British tonality bred from generations of social custom. We landed early so no $100 from BizTravel.com.

My bag checked primarily for my safety came out dead last, which took a half-hour. By that time the taxi line was enormous so I took advantage of having been here before and grabbed a minibus along with a nice couple from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, who were also going to the Marriott. I learned a lot about the rivalry between Des Moines and Cedar Rapids during the 25-minute ride.

I checked in with charming young Hana, who gave me a handicapped-accessible room on the second floor with an interior view. My friends from Iowa got upgraded to the Club level. With my Centurion privileges Marriott is now about the only chain I don’t get upgraded in, but it’s the newest hotel in Prague and in a great location so I settled.

I was hungry so I went out into the perfect Fall evening air for some dinner. I walked through old town square and saw they had planted flowers around the statue of Jebediah Prague, preventing people from sitting on the steps of the statue. I wondered why. I turned up Paøižska and headed for one of my favorite restaurants, Pravda, for a vodka, a glad of Czech wine, and a Bombay chicken salad. It was just what the doctor ordered and I happily paid the 525 Kè ($13) plus a 50 Kè tip for the light supper in one of Prague’s trendiest restaurants.

I noticed a new casino had opened up the street so I popped in. They had some video poker games with unusual pay tables so I wrote them down to run them through WinPoker to figure out if they were good games. Upstairs I played a few hands of blackjack at 100 Kè ($2.50) a hand but to no avail. They were using the European no-hole-card rule which allows the casino to take your whole bet if you split or double against a ten or ace and the dealer has blackjack. I got annoyed the first time that happened and cashed out.

I walked back to the Marriott, noticing that the town was very deserted for a Saturday night. I wondered if the fuel crisis had something to do with that, or maybe everyone was home watching the Olympics. I stopped by the Marriott casino but didn’t play. Then I went up to my room and called Hunnybear using Dialpad.com. Around 1:30 I successfully got some sleep.


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I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com

Ah Prague, It's still as beautiful as I remember it Lion.

But a casino? YIKES!!!

As always, a four paws up PURRFECT report! http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/smile.gif

Centurion card, huh? Now you can take DL's BE US to New York instead of UA's C and still get UA miles--albeit non-status.

Agree with Violist re: Tip #1. One of my favorites.

I agree Dom is riding on its reputation. I'll take Tattinger any day.

[This message has been edited by QuietLion (edited 09-18-2000).]

If you are a Delta GM and a UA 1K (as in QL's case), can you enjoy the perks of Delta GM (upgrading), while still earning UA miles? I was under the impression that the answer is NO, since the computer can only recognize one number, and that number determines your benefits (status) and where the miles go.

Thanks

BizJet, good point--I wasn't thinking.

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Dom is great, it's just $60-80 (depending on where you buy) overpriced.

As always, an excellent description.

The '92 Dom seems better than the '90 (at least to me), but I have always been a Moet fan.

Still need to tour Prague.

Congrats(?) on the Centurion Card - I seem to remember thet you had a few stories about that subject http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/wink.gif

Hello, sex?

I slept late and did some writing before venturing out for a walk. The air was cool and I bought a Versace pullover at the street market near the Marriott. The guy wanted 590 Kè ($14) but I stroked my chin and he immediately lowered it to 550. I offered 500 but he shook his head and said, “No money!” I stroked my chin again but he still had no money so I bought it for 550 ($13). Equipped for Autumn, I walked into old town square and bought a kielbasa for lunch for 30 Kè (75¢) from a street vendor. The town was still deserted, which may have been why the Versace purveyor had no money. Was tourist season already over?

I crossed the Charles Bridge and stopped to listed to a washboard jazz band play “Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey” before calling it quits for the afternoon. The view from atop the bridge of the cobblestone streets, red roofs, and Medieval spires plunged me at once into the unique mood of Prague, so beautifully preserved and yet so lived in. Graffiti on the walls, sprayed there by the artistic intellectual Bohemian youth, was quaint, not angry. As I passed a group of teenage girls I heard one of them rehearsing something in English, all smiles and giggles: “Hey what’s up man! Don’t hit me in my ...!” I could only imagine the scenario for which she had wished she had that phrase at her command but it reminded me of Monty Python’s Mob-backed Hungarian-English dictionaries with which unsuspecting tourists were made to say, “My hovercraft is full of eels.”

Casinos were springing up in Prague at an alarming rate but none of them seemed very busy. The one at the Marriott was the nicest and I ended up playing a little blackjack there and coming out ahead a couple thousand koruna ($50). They give hotel guests a free 150 Kè chip every time you walk in the door so you’re already ahead. They had a continuous-shuffle machine but I wouldn’t play it so they opened up a four-deck shoe game for me. They played the European no-hole-card rules so I stopped splitting and doubling against 10 or A because they kept taking my whole bet when they had ex-post-facto blackjack. They did offer early surrender against 10 which weighed back in the player’s favor though. The dealers were mostly cute brunette girls and the supervisors were mostly young men although there were a couple variations. The female supervisors liked to sit up high in chairs like tennis umpires, black-hosed legs crossed demurely.

They had a curious form of video poker called All American III. Played with a joker, it offered the highest payout for Five of a Kind rather than Royal Flush. The odd thing was that in order to hold and draw cards you had to double your bet. I ran a strategy card for it but I had no easy way to measure the house advantage. I played anyway for a few hundred koruna just for fun and lost it all of course.

When I emerged from the casino it was pouring rain so I had a Budweiser in the hotel lobby where they charged me 100 Kè ($2.50) for the same beer that the touristy pubs charge 35 Kè for and the Czechs drink for 20 Kè (50¢). Anheuser-Busch had paid the local brewery Budweiser for the rights to their name so every year the label had “Budweiser” in a little smaller type and the new name, “Budvar,” a little larger.

It was still sprinkling when I went out in search of dinner around 10:30 p.m. so I ended up ducking into T.G.I. Friday’s for dinner because it was close. I had some passable fajitas rather than my standard mushrooms chicken and mushrooms because I didn’t feel like fried food. At the next table were two other Angelinos likewise embarrassed to be eating in an American chain in Prague but they were sick of meat and dumplings. I enlightened them as to the two ways to eat in Prague: meat and dumplings for dirt cheap, or gourmet food at one of the handful of superb restaurants, whose names I enumerated for them. They had just been to see the National Opera’s production of Carmen and had only one more day so I entreated them to eat at Kampa Park tomorrow night.

The rain had stopped so I walked back to the Marriott. I must have been looking fine because several girls who were just standing around on street corners were hitting on me. They all had the same line and I think it would work on most guys: “Hello, sex?” There were no Hunnybears though so instead I went back to my handicapped-accessible room and caught up with FlyerTalk at the rate of 17 Kè for five minutes ($5/hr) for local calls, raided the Budweiser from my minibar, and hit the sack in preparation for Kevin’s arrival in the morning.


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I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com