UA/Hilton run - amusing and inconsequential UA 577 BOS SFO 1036 1401 752 2F Ch9^ Empower:td: The new consolidated security entrance at Logan terminal C is more sensible than the previous arrangement, but it appears that the airport authority is taking the opportunity to funnel passengers through a Heathrow-style shopping mall (under construction). The gate area is its same featureless self as before, the same insuffient amount of seating, with the resulting long lines and milling about in the corridor despite the best efforts of the agents. Somehow everyone eventually gets on the plane. A pretty genial and customer-oriented crew. On this flight: Channel 9; no Empower; warmed nuts; warm towels. Andy the purser was pretty attentive. He bore a resemblance to FTer bschaff1 both in appearance and sense of humor. Lunch was the paltry or poultry choice of turkey salad or chicken sandwich. The sandwich smelled appetizing, so I had one - quite salty but not bad. It came with a mushroom brie bisque (cream of mushroom soup with clots of cheese in the bottom of the bowl). To add a dimension to this I asked for a Courvoisier, of which I tipped a tablespoon into the soup, which really improved it. Sated, I snoozed until my nostrils were tickled by the fragrance of fresh baked goods. When handing round the chocolate-chip cookie (the paper bag presentation is peculiar), Andy asked if perhaps Courvoisier went well with that, cementing the resemblance to bschaff1. We landed a bit early, but as usual there was no gate for us. We ended up at gate 83, the one I have fond memories of from the Anchorage flights from the '90s. The Hilton Bayfront is way down near the end of Airport Boulevard, a pretty location but far away from anywhere in particular. The building itself is unprepossessing, solid, and ugly, and the interior could use a refurbishment. Last time I was here I wrote of it as "no-frills." Now in the cruel daylight it was no-frills, no makeup, no nothing. The staff are friendly, though. The executive lounge has hors d'oeuvres 5-7 and cookies 7-9, accompanied by a cash bar that offers fairly high prices for nonstellar booze, if there were only an attendant. The food offerings too are lackluster. One could possibly get enough calories here, but one would not want to. So it's about a quarter mile walk around the lagoon to Kincaid's, where I plopped myself down at a bar table and ordered the prime rib rare. This came with artificially truffled mash (not bad) and al dente broccolini. The meat was sort of medium rare, very tender, with a salt and herb crust heavy on the rosemary, which tended to take over the flavor, so I scraped off as much as I could. Jekel Pinot Noir, a rather acidy, light Santa Barbara wine, with notes of raspberry and venison broth, went pretty well with the mild meat. My extra-quiet room next to the corner, with a decent bay view, was fine until about 2 am, when some folks down the corridor seemed to engage in a door-slamming competition. UA 682 SFO ORD 0600 1211 752 2F Ch9^ Empower^ Priority security featured the "state your name" charade but was pretty short, so I got to taste test more juice products. For some reason Pass-o-Guava was sweeter and richer than usual, acai-blueberry, which I think is new, was just this side of water, and grape just right, i.e., about 25% diluted. Walker's shortbread in singles. Back to gate 83, where I tried to get bumped, but the zeroed flight was pretty full but not quite so full as all that. There were 5 empties in F until just before the doors closed. Stand-bys or the extremely lucky nonstatuses, or perhaps people who wanted to sit in the club until the last moment? Breakfast was a chive scrambled egg puck, the usual spongy precooked sausages, and rather tasty though mushy spiced potatoes. The person in 1F had reclined her seat all the way and then stretched out, putting her feet up against the bulkhead, making an immovable object, so I ate with my tray on my lap. No booze: it was early, and my liver is going kablooie anyhow.