UA 12 IAD SFO 1537 1825 738 7A I arrived early enough to have a shower and lunch at the LH lounge. It was a pleasant surprise that downstairs was serving ample food mostly the same as at the Senator lounge upstairs and was less crowded. Tomato basil soup was heavily basiled but undersalted; my protein needs were fulfilled by a large serving of jerk chicken with plantains: holy crap this was good, partially because it wasn't really jerked: it tasted like my mother's tarragon chicken from fifty years ago but slightly hotter. There were sandwiches available - curried chicken salad and asparagus and brie - and an assortment of desserts; I just had a banana. Martell VSOP, which the young bartender didn't recognize when I asked for brandy, then Cognac, then I had to point out the bottle. He poured too much into a highball glass. Some guy began transacting business loudly on speakerphone in the center of the lounge. This mostly related to some Scrabble software that he had bought and that apparently didn't work right, and by golly, he wanted satisfaction immediately if not sooner. I could have had his name, personal details, and address if I'd been listening. As it was, that seemed to be my cue to go to C and check out the inadequate boarding area with its eau de restroom from across the way. Preboard was already happening. The flight was perfectly decent; my seat had a cutout that could accommodate a full-size carryon. The aisle seat was taken by a youngish Chinese woman with whom I chatted briefly before my seatmate showed up, a taciturn but not unpleasant brunette a few years younger than myself. There was AC power on the flight, so between that and looking out the window, which I still enjoy after all these decades, time passed quickly. At the next gate, there were some familiar-looking folks talking about familiar-sounding subjects: theblakefish, scott6067, and rob_flies_ua, exploring the ins and outs of mistake fares and airport lounges. It turns out we constituted row 2. UA 609 SFO ANC 1957 2350 752 2A Ch9^ I chatted with theblakefish for a while, with some Courvoisier to loosen my tongue and confound my brain. Then the somewhat nasty Mediterranean meal, which looked less nasty than usual; even so, I didn't regret my refusal of it. It was a wide open flight, and we eventually spread out throughout the cabin to snooze. I decided to wait at the Boardroom until desamo's flight came in and said goodbye to the others, who were heading off for some shuteye at the Crowne Plaza. Catering was unstellar: blueberry muffins aren't my first choice of food in the middle of the night. Alaskan Amber, however, is. For some reason desamo was on US Air from PHX, and the flight was a bunch late; nonetheless as I wasn't too tired, I stuck it out. Saw her off as well at the CP and then repaired to the Sheraton, where I asked for a room that they didn't need until 4. I got put in a perfectly fine but unprestigious room on 4 that had a wonderful view of some construction equipment. The clock and the desk lamp were inop, but I was more interested in the bathroom, pleasant and functional, and the bed, very comfy.