BOS-SFO run - inconsequential

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  1. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    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

    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.
    Freddie Listo and Jimgotkp like this.
  2. Jimgotkp
    Original Member

    Jimgotkp Gold Member

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    Boy do I hate when people recline their seats all the way back and force you to eat like that. :(
  3. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    Amusement of the day:

    American xxx: we've got intermittent light chop. Have you
    got a ride report?

    Salt Lake Center: we weren't going to be doing chop today.

    American xxx: unfortunately, the gods seem to have other

    Salt Lake Center: [unintelligible] we'll see what we can do.

    American xxx: hey, that's amazing, the chop stopped.

    Salt Lake Center: we said we'd see what we could do.

    I made up for my onboard abstinence with a couple of
    Jim Beams at the club.

    When one needs a hotel stay, one does what one has to do.
    I got probably the smallest room at the Hilton O'Hare, with
    the smallest bathroom available and some amenities missing.
    I didn't really care, as I don't need much, and one does
    rattle around a bit in the large but sparsely appointed
    junior suites, and do we need both shower gel and shampoo?;
    but I peevishly didn't leave a tip for housekeeping anyway.

    Being peckish, I made a beeline for the sports bar at
    Andiamo, where a duck burger - medium-well ground duck
    (where do they find it? I maintain it must be surplus from
    unsold seared duck breast so didn't ask for it rare, which
    would be my preferred way) mixed with cilantro, sweet chile
    sauce, and five spice, on a very brown roll. The sides are
    quite good French fries, a little cup of kimchi, and a huge
    if supernumerary pickle. Pretty good, actually, but $15?
    Sam was a good friend but no bargain at 8.50 for 16 oz or
    11 something for 23 oz. I should learn about hotel food.

    A pretty comfy bed, and I slept decently despite occasional
    unexplained noises that sounded short circuity. There was
    no electrical smell, and the noises seemed to come from
    random places.

    CO4916 ORD CLE 0900 1125 Q40 2D

    The 5-minute security line took 10 minutes owing to some
    kettlicious people having managed to get past the checker
    at priority security. I got the rapescan directly after
    remarking to the person next in line that it appeared
    they weren't using it.

    Continental has the first 4 or 5 gates at the very end of
    the B concourse, past the turnoff for the other terminals.
    It's a singularly dark end, with dark service agents.

    The equipment arrived half an hour late, so we took off
    half an hour late.

    There's a ton of legroom, and I stretched out and snoozed.

    We arrived half an hour late, with the result that I would
    have missed my connection had Irene not caused it to be

    CO5830 CLE DCA 1514 1653 CRJ 3B
    CO2479 1910 2025 ERJ 12A
    CO4937 1200 1325 Q40 2D

    Okay - the airline had not rebooked me, and the best that
    the plat desk could offer was the last one, 7 hours later,
    which had one seat open, the two intervening ones being
    oversold. The PC was welcome, the agent encouraging as
    she put me on standby for the other flights.

    There was a TSA crowd at the gate with a folding plastic
    table - at least they've learned not to lug those big old
    metal tables all over the place. As far as I could see,
    they didn't check anybody's anything.

    I was the last standby to clear - odd, as the Website had
    shown me as first on the list. Turned out fine, as the last
    empty seat was next to FTer Robert, whom I'd met at various
    Dos and Happy Hours.

    This was a creaky old United CRJ with a creaky old FA. It
    shuddered rather unduly as we slammed through banks of
    clouds, and the overheads kept making ominous noises.

    Robert and I chatted away happily about miles and points
    for the whole hour flight, whereupon I guested him into
    the lounge and we had a few beers.

    Then back home to see if the house had been damaged by
    the storm. It hadn't, as my brother had had the foresight
    to clean up the gutters beforehand. Sigh of relief.
    Freddie Listo and Bonnie like this.

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