Cactus League trip

Discussion in 'Trip Reports' started by violist, Apr 15, 2015.  |  Print Topic

  1. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    This was originally US 1809 BOS PHL 0930 1106 E90 and
    US 686 PHL PHX 1340 1602 321, an itinerary with a greater
    chance for upgrade, and I have no idea why they messed
    with my reservation.

    I was dropped off at 7 and had lots of time during which
    I suppose I could have tried to get my itinerary changed
    back but instead went to the United Club (the two parts of
    Terminal B now connected airside) and had about four cups
    of hot chocolate, there not being any chocolate muffins
    this day. The wi-fi was a little spotty, and the regular
    airport service tried to cut in a few times, which was
    annoying as it is slower and cuts you off after half an
    hour if not sooner; I think that it's designed to go back
    on almost automatically, but my Zone Alarm doesn't let it.
    P.S. a month later - officially an hour, but on one trip
    it was in fact just half an hour, and on another it wasn't
    interrupted at all, though I used it for almost two hours.

    US 522 BOS CLT 0930 1204 320 1D

    Usually I take the shuttle, just a few paces down the road,
    so the unusual exercise - a half mile more, I'd say, from
    the United Club - was either welcome or irritating depending
    on whether you took the point of view of my cardiologist or
    my legs. I got to the gate, the farthest one, just before
    boarding, and I queued up at the back of what I thought was
    the Zone 1ers. But when Zone 1 was called, nobody moved. I
    finally tumbled to the facts when Zone 2 was called and
    nobody moved. I went around - needed that overhead space,
    which I had to go a fair ways back to get.

    Other than the storage issue, the seat is fine - there was
    a bit of a cutout, and I am not hugely long-legged, and if I
    were, there was the aisle to stretch out into.

    I was going to order a boozie (no more Courvoisier or
    Glenlivet on this airline, but Canadian Club or Bacardi
    is good for medicinal purposes; I don't see what the deal
    is with Jack Daniel's, which to me tastes of bitterness
    and disappointment) but didn't need it. Slept, as I often
    do, from wheels up to touchdown.

    US 628 CLT PHX 1300 1438 321 23A

    No upgrade, no problem. I got the rear throne, which is
    marginally nicer than the corresponding right-side one
    because one gets to face the very pretty half-Asian flight
    attendant in the jumpseat on takeoff and landing. As has
    often happened to me on "completely full" flights, although
    I didn't get first class, I didn't get any sitting next to
    me either. This on US Air: United usually no such luck. This
    was a fairly bumpy flight, and I almost regretted sleeping
    so soundly on the previous one, as that meant I was
    relatively conscious during the turbulence. We got in around
    3:30 owing to headwinds.

    My friend Swisher was at the curb waiting for me, and we
    went straight to the Hotel Tempe Phoenix Airport at the
    Mall, which reminded me of the Hospitality Suites that we
    used to go to and that, once quite a bargain, has priced
    itself beyond its britches.

    We got assigned quarters with a fancy name like The Bandera
    Canyon Suite. It came with one bed and was not a suite but
    rather an accommodation that would not have done a Days Inn
    room proud. I called the front desk, which said that the
    place was sold out, and take it or leave it, and like it or
    lump it, and complain to Expedia if you dare, but it won't
    do you any good. This slightly more politely phrased than
    that, but the message was the same.

    It was only faintly smoky, the smallish bathroom had a fan
    and so didn't smell too mildewy, and the bed was reasonably
    comfortable.

    There is a reason why Trip Advisor gives this place a very
    favorable rating. It's happy hour, billed at 5 to 6:30 but
    practically a bit longer than that. During that time you get
    all the Lite and Killian's that you can swill down for free,
    if you carry away no more than two drinks at a time. Also
    wine and well spirits, which I didn't investigate. But wait,
    there's more - all the burgers, dogs, popcorn, and nachos
    you can stomach. I had a burger and a dog. The former was
    like nothing I'd ever tasted before - quite crispy on the
    outside, soft and spongy inside, shot full of rather okay
    suet and seasoned with salt, pepper, and maybe a touch of
    onion. Six or seven ounces of preformed delight, which also
    describes the dog, except the dog was much less palatable,
    but, hey, that's what God made ketchup and mustard for. A
    lot of food, cheap at half the price.

    The servers were cheerful.

    We had thought to hit Popeye's, just past the Circle K where
    we'd picked up a case of beer, but the abundance here
    allowed us to economize and skip a paid meal.
     
  2. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    Breakfast: sausage and scrambled eggs, rather normal, the
    beloved make your own waffle, sad but abundant whole fruit.
    Notable were the biscuits and gravy - I didn't have a
    biscuit - putting the stuff on the pretty good hash browns
    instead -; the gravy was a hugely umami-filled white
    substance shot full of real pork sausage that reeked of
    an overabundance of sage. I think that the point was to
    have the meat steep in the gravy and impart its flavor, some
    Sysco food engineer's idea of efficiency. I ended up eating
    the gravy but leaving behind some of the sausage, not my
    usual course.

    Swisher had never been to Salt River, not my favorite park
    for various reasons. He waved his temporary gimp placard at
    the parking attendant and was pointed down a road at the
    end of which there was some parking, so he decided to take
    it. It turned out to be a half mile down the road, and what
    he should have done was turn right at the end and go another
    half mile, and voila, plenty of blue parking. Live and learn.

    SD@AZ, Talking Stick at Salt River 1

    We saw the Padres and the Diamondbacks battle in the blazing
    heat to a 3-3 tie in a fairly tightly played contest. I was
    more interested in the fry bread truck out in center field,
    where I got a Navajo taco (or a Pima taco, or whatever) -
    fry bread, refried beans, ground beef, tomatoes, shredded
    lettuce, shredded cheese, a little thing of salsa on the
    side. I asked for a second salsa, but the guy said that
    would be another dollar, so I said no. The fry bread was -
    in contrast to what I'd been served here last year - popping
    fresh and crisp, but the beans were dead bland and would
    have benefited mightily from a second dose of salsa. The
    meat had been cooked possibly fresh last week or year and
    frozen. It was also mostly gristle, which I didn't mind
    particularly. Tomatoes and lettuce were fine. I'd asked for
    light on the cheese, but in fact more cheese would have been
    a good idea for taste's sake. I went to a condiment stand
    and got salt and pepper, free, which helped things a bit.
    The beer selection here is crummy and the prices high; the
    park is sunnier than most, and when you're facing record
    heat, that's not a good thing. No, not my favorite park at
    all.

    --

    The Hampton Inn on North Scottsdale Road is brand spanking
    new and quite snazzy for a Hampton. These guys had provided
    a sufficient number of beds; mine was quite comfy. We had
    come here beforehand to store Swisher's stuff in a controlled
    temperature setting, as his antibiotics require to be kept
    below 86F, which the car wouldn't have been able to provide
    all day in the stadium parking lot. The hotel was very
    accommodating about this.

    Speaking of which, a major complication, not caused by the
    hotel. As he had left Havasu City (3 1/2 hours west) in
    haste, he had left some of the lines behind for his IV. So
    instead of driving an extra 7 hours, he arranged for a
    medical delivery to be made after the game. Issue number one
    - when this prob came up I called the central reservations
    to make sure that his name was on the record, and they
    assured me it was. It wasn't on the hotel's record, though,
    and it was lucky I checked. Second issue - we rather tardily
    got a call from the delivery guy. He was at 1415 North
    Scottsdale Road in Scottsdale, whereas we had quite clearly
    told him we were at 1415 North Scottsdale Road in Tempe,
    close enough neither for grenades nor horseshoes. I wonder
    at the constantly clever ways that the city planners and
    traffic engineers have come up with to make life difficult.
    After getting an earful about how we'd given him the wrong
    address, and giving one about how he was in the wrong city,
    we worked out a compromise, and the guy showed up and Swisher
    got his stuff.
     
  3. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    It was late for dinner, but we found a promising-sounding
    restaurant half a mile up the road, Villa Peru, which
    indeed was open, though devoid of customers.

    A youngish waiter (I suspect related to proprietorship,
    as he was not notably grumpy) made the universal sit
    anywhere you like sign with his hand, so we parked at a
    prominent window hoping to lead by example as it were.

    A dish of roasted corn kernels appeared - with my defective
    eyesight and high hopes I first thought they were fried
    crickets or bee larvae - and were tasty and crunchy with
    hard bits on the outside and might as well have been
    crickets or bee larvae.

    As there was a bar display with numerous glasses, I asked
    for the beer list only to be told that the licence was
    coming maybe next week. The waiter pointed out a Food Town
    in the same shopping center. I hoofed it over to find
    Modelo Especial for two 24-oz cans for $4.50 counting tax
    (almost a bargain, but if there had been a Circle K, we
    could have had them for 20c less).

    For appies, I ordered beef heart anticuchos; our waiter
    recommended beef. I don't know if that was because the
    beef were better or the heart were off. At any rate, we
    got the beef, which were good, marinated not quite to
    death, pink in the middle, three large skewers for the
    $8.50 charged, served with a hot green sauce and posole.

    Swisher asked for a lomo saltado sandwich; the guy tried
    upselling to the dinner portion for twice the price. This
    was resisted, and when the food came, it was abundant and
    excellent, also rare in the middle in the American style.

    Arroz con mariscos is one of the most expensive things on
    the menu, and one has to wonder where one gets his mariscos
    in the middle of the desert. Nonetheless, I hadn't had fish
    in a while. I asked if it was too late in the evening to
    get this, and the kid, sensing a live one, said of course
    not. What came, in a not unduly long time, was a big,
    almost daunting, portion of paellalike rice, lightly
    tomatoed, the grains firm-tender and perfect, cooked in a
    rich seafood stock; buried within were a couple ounces of
    squid, rings and legs both; and three each large tigerish
    shrimp, Venusish clams, and clearly New Zealand greenlip
    mussels. A lot of food, the protein obviously having been
    frozen up until our arrival and the rice probably too.
    Surprisingly, the dish was actually quite good. There was
    octopus in the menu's description, and cod figured as well,
    here or on the Internet version, but though I like octopus
    and could have used a bit more protein, these were not
    particularly missed.

    We lingered a while with our beers. By the time we left,
    several more late-dining couples had showed up. We felt
    we'd done a good deed keeping the place lit up.
     
  4. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    Breakfast was the usual Hampton thing, only better.

    The fruit cup had mango slices in addition to the usual
    orange, grapefruit, and pineapple.

    The meat was a respectable, not off-brand kielbasa, and
    instead of prefab scrambled eggs or omelets, there was
    prefab french toast, though you could make your own waffle
    - the kitchen staff was kept busy preventing idiot guests
    from burning the place down. The usual run, perhaps more
    variety than usual, of breakfast breads and pastries.
    Oatmeal, which I have begun to investigate at the behest
    of lili, who thinks I should eat the crap for my cardiac
    well-being, had a bit of texture.

    All in all, a good way to help dodge the temptations of
    dried-out burgers and dogs at the ballpark, and I went
    back for thirds of kielbasa.

    -

    Before the game I had to repack Swisher's wound - a
    horrendous slash that two millennia ago would have made a
    believing Thomas out of me. There's a reason I didn't become
    a physician. Seeing his internal parts thus exposed really
    didn't do much for my frame of mind, and I got the job done
    as fast as possible.

    TEX@OAK Hohokam Stadium 1

    This used to be the Cubs' spring training park, but they
    became too popular and had a bigger new stadium built a few
    miles up the road; Hohokam was renovated and is now the home
    of the Athletics, whose Phoenix Municipal digs have been
    bequeathed to ASU. The Mesa Hohokams, a fraternal
    organization, still retain the ushership responsibilities
    here as well as providing the staff for new Sloan Park.

    I looked for my friend Annie's friend Junior, who used to be
    head usher here, but it turns out he is now head usher at
    the new place, so I didn't get to see him.

    The beer selection is okay here, I started off with a can of
    Kilt Lifter from the local Four Peaks - a brew that
    TransWorldOne had introduced me to years ago when he was a
    student at ASU, following that with what I thought the best
    draft available there, Lagunitas Pils (the IPA is also on
    tap, but I don't tend to drink IPAs in the dry heat).

    As my budget for the day was nearly exceeded, for my third
    round I had a Carly's Italian Ice, because it was blue -
    blue raspberry, which tasted like nothing, paired with lemon,
    which tasted like Ty-D-Bol, and lime, which was kind of good.

    It was a neatly played contest, for spring training. Though
    trailing most of the game, the home team pulled it out in
    the bottom of the 9th with a walkoff 3-run homer by Mark
    Canha, 7-6.

    After which, a complication. The course of true baseball
    never ran smooth.

    Originally, we had planned to have the day's game out west
    at Surprise, but after we bought the tickets, this had been
    turned into a night game, and Swisher had arranged the A's as
    a consolation prize, hoping to refund the Royals game, but
    it was more hoops than he was willing to jump through to
    get the money back, so we decided to try to make both. If it
    had been myself alone, I'd have simply disputed the credit
    card charge and been done with it.

    SEA@KC Surprise 6

    Plan. Go out up and over, hit the new hotel (Hampton Peoria)
    at around 5, get Swisher's medication done, out of there at
    5:45, to the park by the second inning. Hah. The exits to
    the loop freeway from near where we were were closed for
    massive reconstruction, so we were forced to go through
    town, which meant that we were smack downtown at 5, so we
    crawled through, and that took nearly an hour in itself. I
    suggested that we just go to the stadium and cause a stir by
    infusing his antibiotics out in the left field stands, but
    he didn't want to do that. Off to the hotel (6 pm), check
    in, do the routine, go to the stadium. 8 pm. We ended up
    catching the last three innings only, by which time the game
    was a foregone conclusion.

    I drowned my sorrows in the best available food and drink,
    which were a $10 Dos Equis and a $5 cheeseburger. The beer
    was worse than I anticipated; the burger better, despite
    having two triangles of unmelted Velveeta on it, after I
    loaded it up with onions at a condiment stand.

    The Seattles were far overmatched - when we'd gotten there,
    they were down 5-0; playing against Royals rookies and subs
    whose numbers averaged in the 80s, they only managed one
    run, making the final 5-1.
     
  5. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    Hampton Inn Phoenix/Glendale/Peoria is old but friendly;
    there are bunches of suspicious-looking characters lounging
    around in front, but that doesn't particularly bother me, as
    I often am one of them myself. What bothered me: lumpy beds,
    and my back hurt mightily in the morning.

    Breakfast: biscuits and gravy senza sausage, so I had my
    okay biscuit with honey and butter; fruit - grapefruit,
    orange, pineapple, all sadder than the previous Hampton;
    and presynthesized Western omelets.

    CLE@MIL Maryvale 1

    I always liked this stadium, but like the night's Hampton,
    it's a little tired, and there are fewer of the modern
    amenities one looks for (such as a reasonable overhang to
    shade the fans in the early afternoon). We had seats
    further back, so the shade came relatively early. The beer
    selection, once mighty with Leinenkugel products and the
    dreaded Old Style, is now useless, bad for my disposition
    but good for my pocketbook, as I refuse to pay top dollar
    for Coors and Anheuser-Busch products. It was a nothing
    game. The visitors prevailed 3-2.

    We roared back to the Hilton Garden Inn Phoenix Airport
    North on Van Buren; originally we were staying out west,
    but lili was joining us for the weekend, as she is on a
    run to ensure continuing top status on American, so I
    rescheduled for here.

    Her flight was half an hour late, so we handily beat her
    there. Oddity: though both Swisher's and her names were on
    the reservation, the hotel again had no record, and the
    airport shuttle refused service until she claimed she was
    my wife.

    We got two rooms on the top floor with only two breakfast
    and drink coupons, which was rectified to three breakfasts
    when challenged. The third cocktail was not forthcoming.

    lili had read that Bill Johnson's Big Apple, once a proud
    though somewhat silly fixture of the Phoenix dinihg scene,
    was set to close in 2016, so we decided to eat there for
    old times' sake. Well, part of it is that it's 250 paces
    from the hotel, and she bartered her room cost (points)
    with dinner for Swisher and me, and the place is not too
    expensive.

    Tip of the day: don't get the Merlot.

    Next tip of the day: don't believe the sign that says that
    draft Bud and Bud Light are $1 - this offer ends at 6.

    The food is nowhere so bad as its reputation, which is of
    airplane food. It's really first-class airplane food.

    I cry for the days when you could get a t-shirt that read
    I Ate The Big One if you ate The Big One, a not-so-big
    24-oz porterhouse that varied between 18 and 30 ounces,
    depending on whether you got there on a good or a bad day.
    I once went there with a FlyerTalk and Others dinner and
    got The Big One, and it came a shriveled and bare 18 ounces,
    so I sent it back, and the replacement was two pounds and
    just about raw. This was perfect for me, and I ate it up
    and half of TW1's not so great sirloin as well. Those were
    the days, around the millennium.

    Anyhow, she got a quite nice burger, half a pound of meat,
    rare as ordered, dragged through the garden, decent domestic
    Swiss, for under $10 with a huge pile of onion rings, which
    she shared around.

    My Tenderfoot Plate was 6 or 8 ounces of decent "USDA Prime"
    top sirloin, actually cooked rare as ordered, and a half
    rack of slightly puny presauced baby backs no doubt out of
    a Cry-O-Vac but not too bad.

    Swisher's chicken-fried steak was quite good - bigger than I
    remember, beefier than I remember, with the gravy possibly
    real rather than out of a 55-gallon Sysco drum.

    The sides came in foil ramekins like you get on the plane
    when they have had to rush the service. Cowboy beans were
    okay though very sweet - I was going to write extremely,
    but then I remembered the smashed sweet taters, where were
    in fact extremely sweet and spiced like pie. Corn casserole
    was cheap canned creamed corn with cornflakes on top.

    A basic but surprisingly not bad meal.

    There are respectable draft beers for not too much money.

    Back to the hotel, where Swisher excused himself - it had been
    a long day -, and lili and I used the drink coupons on a
    glass of house Cabernet and a glass of house Merlot. The Cab
    was somewhat dreadful, the Merlot somewhat better.
     
  6. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    CIN@LAA Tempe 12

    I get the creeps from the very Southern California Tempe
    Diablo Stadium, but Swisher had never been, so despite
    tickets costing twice as much as at the other parks ($40 for
    box seats, as much as I'd be willing to spend on regular-
    season tickets, which is why I never see the Red Sox at
    Fenway any more), we went, our places right directly
    behind home plate.

    Catering is reasonably priced, and Four Peaks has a booth
    where $9 gets you a 20-oz draft, including Kilt Lifter,
    which has more alcohol than your normal beer and so is the
    main advantage of the park the park. The visitors won a
    monster slugfest 8-6, of which I remember little or nothing,
    not having been so enthusiastic about the location or the
    matchup in the first place. Getting progressively more
    blasto was a relative pleasure, and I followed up a couple
    doses of K.L. with a refreshing but hoppier than expected
    Kolsch.

    Angelo's Italian Ice had a blue swirly thing, so I asked one
    of the girls behind the dipper if she'd dip me some with
    mostly blue. She did one better and opened the next tub of
    the stuff in back and dipped me a cupful of almost all blue.
    Unfortunately, it didn't taste like much - I detected notes
    of cardboard, plastic, and lemon.

    Oh, despite the rules saying only "no food in bulk," I was
    denied entry with 6 oz of leftover baby backs, which I ate
    right out front of the gate before the game.

    Oh, there's no overhang, so no shade pretty much anyplace
    for most of the game.

    Oh, I just hate this joint.

    One joint I do not hate is the Hilton Mesa, which gets bad
    notices, but I enjoy it. There's an executive lounge, klein
    aber fein, that offers free Bud, Bud Light, cheap wine, and
    well liquors from 5 to 7 or maybe later, plus snacks. This
    day the snacks were the usual cruddities, cheese and crax,
    and orange chicken, which was buffalo bites with orange
    concentrate drizzled over, but not bad for that.

    The rooms are quite comfy, and ours had updated bedding if
    not furniture.

    We had to blast ourselves from the free spread to go dine
    with janAZ and Dave, who are off in Glendale, quite a ways
    down the road, almost an hour. They're doing well, Jan
    still teaching at the same place, Dave no longer working
    for the evil empire, proud but put-upon grandparents.

    We brought a couple bottles of Mark West Pinot Noir (good
    bargain brand) and one of Woodford (good nonbargain brand);
    Dave pulled out a giant filet, of which he cut some mighty
    good-looking steaks, which got wrapped in bacon, rubbed
    with seasoning, and cooked on the grill until medium-rare.

    A festive and wonderful meal, and we were kept talking for
    a couple hours afterward, until lili reminded us that she
    had a flight at 0600 (off to New York on a mileage run). An
    hour back to the Hilton, which offers dessert in the form of
    m&ms in a dispenser such as you might see in the Red Carpet
    Club. Also dog biscuits in a similar dispenser; luckily we
    were all sober enough to be able to tell the difference.
     
  7. violist
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    violist Gold Member

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    Breakfast in the lounge was not so nice as evening snacks -
    the usual unripe fruit, hard hard scrambled eggs, cereal,
    breads. I made my meal of oatmeal and a chocolate muffin.

    COL@OAK Hohokam 1

    Back to Hohokam, where Colorado spotted the Athletics eleven
    runs before roaring back ... okay, they mewled and puked back
    pathetically, and the final was 11-2. Brett Lawrie was
    impressive with two homers; various of us thought he was Jed
    Lowrie, the former Red Sock.

    Then off to my friends Carl and Ellen's (actually closer to
    Sloan Stadium, where the Cubs moved from Hohokam this year,
    but we couldn't get tickets to any of the games there),
    where Swisher did his IV antibiotics in the dining room and
    I had some equally life-giving Modelo. I far prefer Negro,
    but that's hard to come by, where as you can get the
    amarillo version at any gas station for pretty cheap.

    Carl is renovating a half-size bass that he found, and also
    repairing his regular instrument, which got damaged in an
    accident; meanwhile, he has an electric to mess with so is
    doing a bunch of jazz and bluegrass with the occasional
    rock'n'roll gig thrown in.

    As we were a bit peckish, Royal Thai Grill was our obvious
    next destination: most authentic stuff in town, served up by
    a crazy Issan guy and his talented wife who is seldom seen,
    as the kitchen is her domain.

    The meal started off with chicken larb (cooked, no bile),
    Chuckie the proprietor's suggestion to balance the meal
    after he heard what we were going to order. It was tart and
    awakening, reasonably but not too spicy unless you ate the
    peppers (I ate all the peppers), quite wonderful with rice.

    Beef and vegetables in Penang curry was fine, though Carl
    and I thought the abundance of vegetables diluted the
    fineness of the dish (Ellen disagreed). The vegetables were
    also Chuckie's idea; normally we'd see just some bamboo
    shoots and onions and a few perfunctory green beans in with
    the beef and gravy, and I prefer the dish done that way. In
    this version we also got mushrooms, carrots, squash of two
    varieties, and maybe a couple other things that I carefully
    pushed to the side.

    Carl's favorite dish here is catfish with basil. I find this
    interpretation a tad salty, but the spicing is right, and it
    goes well with rice. I'd prefer moo pah, pretty much the
    same thing but made with (ideally wild) pig.

    There was also an odd pork and green bean dish with tomatoes
    and without any of the standard Thai flavors. Chuckie called
    it "curry without coconut milk," but it tasted to me more
    like something I might get as the special of the day in a
    trattoria in Boston or New York.

    Singhas were welcome.

    After a while it was time for Swisher to start back on his
    3-hr journey home, so we said goodbye and repaired to the
    house, where much beer-fueled hilarity ensued when Carl
    tried to fix his ancient turntable with an almost as ancient
    belt. We listened to some hits from the '70s at half speed
    before calling it an evening. It's a quick ride back to Sky
    Harbor, where security was nearly deserted and took no time
    at all, despite there being no PreCheck.

    0330 US2020 PHX CLT 2310 0609 321 3A

    Our cabin supervisor Lisa seemed nice and promised me a
    glass of orange juice. I fell asleep and didn't ever see
    that juice - not a big deal. It is a blessing to be able
    to sleep on the plane. We landed a few minutes early.

    US1980 CLT BOS 0755 1009 320 11A

    This was a 321 route but swapped out to a 320, and the loss
    of four seats up front put paid to my chance for an upgrade.
    Also, the incorporation of American flyers into the system
    has increased the demand for seats up front while the supply
    has clearly gone down. Ah, well. I got a fairly comfy exit
    row seat with nobody next to me and so got enough room to
    relax. It is one of the more padded schedules, owing to the
    always allowed-for east coast congestion, but this time
    everything went smoothly, so we got in half an hour early.
    What happens when one gets in early? One waits until almost
    scheduled arrival time for rampers to come and marshal us to
    the gate. Meanwhile, the plane is running and using gas, and
    in what way is this a fiscally sensible procedure?
     

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