I'm bored tonight, so here are a couple that have been
salvaged from the old computer that I hadn't sent before
(not sure of the dates - a year or so).


UA 339 BOS DEN 0745 1026 752 1A
Empower Y Ch9 Y nuts little gold packets hot towels N

This flight went like clockwork from boarding (full in F,
moderately full in Y). To my pleasure, the Empower ports
were on, so I got a fair amount of work done.

Breakfast was a cheese omelet with the usual accompaniments
or the fruit plate. I opted for the fruit appetizer with a
croissant and a glass of red wine. Both were okay, better
than last time. The wine, the Bushman's Gully Shiraz, was
not, however.

The crew were perfectly fine.

UA1449 DEN PHX 1115 1308 32S 2F
Ch9 Y

Thank goodness the Ted flights now go out of the regular
terminal instead of making one hustle back to Terminal A; as
the previous flight had been on time, the main effect for me
was that I got to visit the club briefly and get my mail.

Boarding was pretty zooful, as it was a sold-out flight with
lots of infrequent flyers with lots of bags. Plus standbys,
two of whom got 1E and 1F. 1E couldn't find any place for
his bag so asked my seatmate (a tall very long-legged black
guy) if he could stow his bag under 1E; the guy politely
acceded. 1F looked as though he should know better, but he
had three bags, which he squished into seemingly too small
spaces in three different bins.

Kim, the purser, went down the aisle reading from the
manifest and greeting all the higher-status passengers.

Though she'd acknowledged my status, no whole can of
ginger ale! I suppose if I'd pressed my case, but, you
know, on this length flight half a can was just fine.
The snack was pretzels, less fine.

We were for some undiscernible reason Lifeguard, and the
captain gleefully used that status to get us direct to
Phoenix 15 minutes ahead of time. He started out calling us
United 1449 Lifeguard, which proceeded to United Lifeguard
1449, and when that didn't get the appropriate oohs and ahs,
LIFEGUARD United 1449. Of course, when we landed, the jet
bridge operator wasn't ready ... but I guess that whatever
Lifeguardedness there was was in the hold, as the cargo guy
came rushing out with his conveyor belt long before we got
to deplane.

TransWorldOne was going to meet me for a baseball game, but
a delayed planeload of Milwaukee Brewers' boosters had
descended upon the Ritz, and he was busy apparently putting
them into their suites and supplying them with unlimited
doses of the Champagne of bottled beers. So I took advantage
of the PHX wireless and read FlyerTalk and stuff.

When he finally managed to get to the airport, it was almost
suppertime, so we scouted about for someplace to eat.

I suggested the Atlas Bistro, on Scottsdale Road, probably
the most famous BYO in the area, well situated in that you
have to walk through AZ Wine, the most famous boozerium in
the area, to get there. Got there only to find that Novartis
had taken it over for the evening (discovered this from the
event planner, not from the restaurant or the wine store
staff, all of whom were otherwise occupied.

TW1 suggested Coup de Tartes, near his hotel, but upon
arriving we discovered that we could be served only after 9
(we were hungry) or right away if we could promise to be out
in an hour or so (not in the mood for that). So he called
Trente Cinq, a Belgian bistro a few miles away in a less
prestigious part of town. They had room.

In fact, there were only three parties there, which bodes
ill (but by the time we left there came a larger group, an
8-top or so, so things may not be so bad after all).

There was one waitress for the whole place. She was okay.

You start off with this heavily herbed ratatouille-like
substance served with a few slices of a decent nothing
baguette. The problem is that the herbs would destroy just
about any wine you can think of. The other problem is that
it's heavy on the zucchini, which I hate. Perhaps the idea
is to sell some beers, only their selection is pedestrian.

Asperges ardennaise were a bouquet of thin spears steamed
a point and chilled, with a collar of some prosciutto-like
ham and garnishes of egg and chopped red onion. Seemed a
nice though somewhat summery dish.

Saintsbury Chardonnay (03 I think) went okay with this.

My so-called "coquilles ostendaise" was a sizable gratin
dish of hot bubbling cream sauce topped with Gruyere;
beneath were an approximately equal quantity of scallop
bites, small shrimp, and carrot dice, with a smaller dose of
celery; all were done nicely, though the scallops were these
less tasty ones that you generally get nowadays. Almost a
main-dish serving. A glass of Domaine Dorices Muscadet du
Sevre et Maine 03 went nicely, adding a touch of spice to
each bite and the acid mitigating the creaminess.

TW1 had the lamb shank Moroccan style, a pretty decent shank
braised with the usual vegetables but with some cinnamon to
make this "Moroccan style." A ragout of pulses was poured on
top, and there was a small pile of couscous (one might say
just cous) on the side.

My carbonnades a la Flamande were thicker and sweeter than
I'd have expect, although the taste of the beer came out
nicely.

Gerard Bertrand Cabernet 01 (Roussillon), about the fanciest
red wine on the list, was quite spicy, with a bit of TCA
that partially blew off. The wine went pretty well with both
dishes, better with the cinnamon of the lamb shank.

No room for dessert, which looked kind of heavy and dull.

TW1 suggested we go to the grocery and pick up some ice
cream: we ended up with Haagen-Dazs (it pains me to spell
that name) pina colada.

For some reason he'd picked up a bottle of Taylor Select
in Macau, opened it, found it nasty, and saved it for me
to pronounce judgment on. It was nasty - thick without
being unctuous, sugary without being rich, and grapy
without being fruity, a pale shadow of Port, perhaps like
Port cut with some particularly nasty sugar syrup.

By way of consolation he opened a bottle of Henry of Pelham
Riesling ice wine (Niagara) 04, which was also very sugary
but was just this side of cloying. An aroma of pears and
apricots, sugar and apricot on the palate, with just a touch
of plastic, and a sweet, slightly kerosiney finish. This
went surprisingly well with the pina colada ice cream.

=

Next day we went to Scottsdale Stadium - my first visit;
a pleasant enough park, but the concessions stink. We had
the pleasure of watching, from directly behind home plate in
the 5th row, the visiting Brewers wallop the Giants 21-2, a
game that saw Barry Bonds misplay two flies into doubles
(okay, one of them would have required some agility and
timing for a big jump, but the other was very routine) and
strike out with a spectacular swing that didn't come within
a foot of the pitch. People, even the SF fans, were laughing
at him, and, by the end of the game, at the whole team.

We'd been stuck in pretty horrid traffic, and an hour and
half allotted for lunch became a half an hour, so the better
part of valor was to grab a snack at the park. TW1 had a
Johnsonville brat, which he thought acceptable, and I had a
burger, which was not unlike what you used to get at the
automat, if you happened to be poverty stricken around the
1960s - one of the most amazingly bad uses for $5.50 I've
ever encountered - though it came from the "Mesquite Grill,"
it was about 3 ounces of steamed mystery meat on a pale
squishy bun. For round two we tried for more of those brats,
but they were sold out, so we had hot dogs, decent, surely
better than the burger, instead. Numerous iterations of
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale continuing through the game made
lunch more palatable.

We'd made a late booking for Atlas Bistro, with the plan
that I'd go straight from there to the airport, so as the
game was over in under six hours (it took only 3 and half,
despite there being something like 88 at-bats), we went
back to TW1's and I got some work done.

Got to the restaurant to find that people had been lingering
longer than the 2 1/2 hours planned for, so we had to wait
a while for our table. We were pretty agreeable about that,
and the staff were pretty agreeable to us. At length we were
seated and ordered soon after, as we'd had plenty of time to
study the menu beforehand.

TW1 started with a venison carpaccio with red chiles, quite
nice but for the disks of red Serrano that substituted for
the more usual capers. The pepper flavor (with the seeds
and membrane carefully removed) was surprisingly mild and
went well with the velvety meat, but the pepper texture was
a bit harsh. Also, the dish had been sprinkled with some
fancy sea salt, which provided a peculiar crunch and too
much saltiness in spots.

My braised Kurobuta pork belly with gingered parsnip puree
was unbearably rich: first, the serving was enormous - two
pieces, one half fat and half rather stringy lean, the
other almost all fat, probably totalling close on half a
pound, braised insufficiently slowly, in an insufficiently
seasoned medium, and insufficiently salted; the garnish was
white on white and also quite delicate, not enough ginger,
and hardly any contrasting salt or acid. A flawed dish.

TW1's main course of gingered duck breast was, alas, kind of
unmemorable; it was undone by underseasoning but also by the
membrane that separates the meat from the breastbone not
having been trimmed off. It came with pea greens that seemed
to dominate the dish and a fairly yummy mushroom risotto.

On entering the place, I'd scouted nearby tables; the lamb
shank looked appetizing and gigantic; the filet looked
appetizing and of modest size. But it also looked as if the
lamb would be too robust for the wine I'd chosen, so, filet
it was. It came with chimichurri (very mild but made with
good olive oil) and poblano-cherry puree (barely discernible
spice, but the cherry flavor was nice); the side dish was
some kind of tart, the size of the filet: the crust was made
of sweet potato, the insides ground meat trimmings - a very
hearty dish, especially as it looked as though they had two
servings of steak left and gave them both to me in one huge
chunk. I remarked that the contents of the plate must have
cost them close to the $29 price of the dish, and TW1 said
that as we were late, they probably would have had no chance
to sell the other portion, so why not give it to gluttonous-
looking me?

Here are menu descriptions of our main courses, from the
restaurant Website: Ginger Cured Duck with Exotic Mushroom
Risotto, Organic Pea Tendrils and Hibiscus Red Wine
Reduction; Chimichurri Grass Fed Filet Mignon with Rosemary
Tenderloin Camote Tart and roasted Poblano Cherry Sauce.

With this course we had a bottle of Pommard 04 (Drouhin),
which, although heavily chaptalized and altogether too
lightweight, had a pleasantly cherrylike Pinot Noirishness.

TW1 had said that he was in a chocolate mood, so I'd bought
a half of the Girard late-harvest Zinfandel Bingham Ranch 04
(Napa) to go with his double-chocolate brownie and chocolate
ice cream: good ice cream, rather not chocolaty enough
cookie. The wine didn't live up to its reputation; I was
hoping for a riot of chocolate, spices, plums, what have
you: what we got was all of that in a dream world, as if
behind a screen. Dumb is a kind word for it. Luckily, it
wasn't grossly too sweet (apparently it's just 2%-odd R.S.).

There's a cheese plate for $8 or for the whole table for
$18. Some interesting cheeses; I picked the aged Gouda and
the Welsh farmhouse Cheddar but was informed that the Gouda
was off for the night, so I said, just the Cheddar would be
fine. They must have needed practice making the whole-table
plate, because what I got was about 3 ounces of cheese with
toast cubes, strawberries (quite sweet), apple slices
(somewhat mealy - Galas perhaps), chocolate coins, cocoa and
spice coated coffee beans, and homemade chorizo (quite dry
and gamy and an odd thing in this company), the whole strewn
with dried apricots, cherries, currants, blueberries, and
raisins (a Trader Joe-ish mixture). It looked like enough
for an entire dinner, and I said so; TW1, who is not yet 30
and is blessed with a good appetite and metabolism, opined
that it might be sufficient for lunch. The cheese, by the
way, was a creamy but nothing special Cheddar that had been
infected with blue mold, which didn't endear it to me.

I got to the airport in plenty of time, but the word on the
board was that both my originating and connecting were
delayed. The agent said not to worry, the delays would
cancel each other out, and I'd be fine.

UA1496 PHX ORD 0125 0518 32S 2F
was 2359 0409
Ch9 Y

It was, however, quite touch-and-go as the crew were delayed
and didn't get in from SFO until after midnight, so they
were extremely tired and close to illegal. Both staff and
passengers were encouraged to hustle, so we were packed into
our seats and the door closed just around our target time of
1 am; but then there was some kind of minor maintenance
issue, after which some paperwork had to be filed, after
which (as we were on the taxiway) the flight patterns
changed, and we were reassigned to a different runway and
so had to get new weights and balances (all this on Channel
9, making it extra interesting) before takeoff. Eventually
we were in the air.

Despite the crew's fatigue (the purser stumbled over the
safety announcement and said that her eyes couldn't focus
any more), service was with a smile, though a wan one.

We landed an hour and change late, and I checked the monitor
for my next gate to find out that my next leg was cancelled.
Ducked into the RCC to find that they'd put me on the
National flight, which was fine, too.

UA 600 ORD DCA 0600 0844 319 2A
was 799 ORD BWI 0630 0916 319
Ch9 Y hot towels Y

Breakfast was the ham, egg, and cheese croissant sandwich;
I just had the fruit appetizer and ordered a coffee with VO,
forgetting that the United neutral whisky is Canadian Club.
The unsmiling FA said, you want vodka in your coffee? and
when I started to reach for Hemispheres, he thought aloud,
oh, that's some kind of Canadian, sorry, I don't know about
these things, I don't drink. That being as it was, he was
perfectly fine all told, actually better than most, even
than the ones who smile all the time. Landed on schedule.

My first flight as a full-fledged 1KMM
UA 7200 IAD BOS 1023 1152 CRJ 14A
was 360 1403 1532 319 8D
was 732 1130 1259 733 2A

Mr. Stupid Shuttle was an hour late, but as I was the last
pickup of the trip, I was at the airport just before 10.
Went to the C17 club, where a friendly matron checked me in,
and then down to the business center to catch a couple of
cans of grapefruit juice and the e-mail. On-time notice,
good, good, a piece or two spam, something from my brother,
and a cancellation notice, sent just a few minutes after the
on-time notice. Not taking time even to hide the computer, I
hustled to the desk, where a friendly matron said I'd been
protected on the 2:00, but she would stand me by on the
10:23, just go pack up now. Now it's what, 10:10, but I did,
and rushed back to the desk, where she'd printed my DM card,
then to the gate, which luckily was C18. The standbys
cleared in a bunch, and mine was the first of the ribbon of
boarding passes. The machine gave me 14A, which as you know
is the nonreclining last row of the aircraft and is right
by the engine and the restroom, so it's noisy and smelly.
I saw that two other SAs, one a Zone 2, one an NR, got row
8 and 10 to themselves. I didn't see what the other SAs got,
but it couldn't have been anywhere near so bad as what I
had. It was infernally hot in the last row, and then after
the thing started up, it became icy cold, almost as though
there were a hole in the fuselage (the rear bulkhead is
right up against the cargo hold, I understand).

The Mesa flight attendant seemed to have memorized her spiel
(good) but was almost incomprehensible (bad) - a combined
Southern drawl and Asian accent, which meant that the ends
of words were swallowed without hope of recovery. Other than
that she seemed okay.

I figured I'd switch seats later, but there was a mighty bit
of turbulence on the ascent, and by the time it was time
to do anything, I was asleep anyhow.

Much bouncing as well on the descent (waking me up above I
guess about Hingham), but at least we landed on time.

I stopped by the club for another round of e-mail (which
included another rebooking notice) and to complain to Diane
at the front desk (good-humoredly of course). On the way out
Lynne was there, and after I said goodbye, I heard them
whispering - all I could catch was "they put him in row 14."