Text 13673, 160 rader
Skriven 2007-04-03 10:02:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: pre-trip 309
====================
0313 US1819 BOS PHL 1030 1153 319 4F

I made the plunge down to Silver, as I really don't think
US Air is worthy of my travel dollars (a pity - some of the
staff are real gems), so of course my upgrade didn't come
through, which was not a big deal at all, except for two
things - I didn't get a free boozie, and I became a famous
bin hog, being in the bulkhead (good legroom) but having
two carryons. One went above the last row of F, the laptop
bag on the opposite side. I sort of joked with the guy in
4C that he could manhandle my bag any way he liked; he sort
of joked back, how about throwing it out the window? I sort
of joked, sure, why not. Actually, the real bin hog was my
seatmate - miraculously the bin above our heads was full
when I got there, and he was the only one in our row; he
apparently had had three items not counting a coat.

I scofflawed it and kept laptop #1 at my seat for the whole
flight, figuring it easier than crawling twice over my
seatmate. Didn't sleep on the flight, tapping away at my
correspondence instead.

Plenty of time for beer and salty sweet crunchy junk at the
terminal F club. There was no keg, so I had a Sam. It was a
hair early, and the person behind the bar had to go find the
key to the booze. She had just sold a couple snack boxes to
a hungry couple. $11 each. What th'?

US3651 PHL BWI 1325 1409 CRJ 2A

They announced boarding for Chairman's, Platinum, Gold,
Silver, Signature, Star Gold, and Star Silver, all at once.
There was a guy on crutches waiting patiently. I told him
they'd let him preboard, but he hung back.

Found my way to my seat and got the successor-to-Attache
out of the seatpocket; did the half crossword that was
vouchsafed to me; and put the magazine back. The woman in 1A
gave me the evil eye and told me "you're going to have to be
careful with your knees." She really was a bit Princess and
the Peevish, and I thought I might have to resort to putting
my hands on the seat and pulling often or something, but I
merely pointed out that it wasn't my knees, I'd just got the
magazine out of the seatpocket and put it back again. The
flight was not full, and I was glad when she relocated.

Slept through this one. Landed more or less on time and got
the train to see my father.

My brother showed up only half an hour late, so we had time
to have a decent supper. He'd eaten late, so I decided to
take us to a place known for healthy food.

Rock Creek is a fairly trendy Bethesda restaurant row place
right opposite the garage, so it was convenient; it serves
food late, which was convenient; and it's an OpenTable
restaurant, which gets me 100 points (worth a buck tops).

It was still buzzing at 9, and they seemed reasonably happy
to see us, considering one of us was an 89-year-old who
looked unlikely to eat much.

On the table, comporting with the healthy theme of the
place, a basket of whole-wheat French bread (not bad) and
a dish of a heavily garlicked, scantly salted and oiled
bean puree; this was tolerated by my brother, enjoyed by
me, and eaten in great gobs by my father.

He started with Maryland crab soup, notable for having lots
of chunked vegetables rather than being the usual smoothish
red liquid. It was not particularly heavy on the crab, but
he liked it. Crab cakes were a different story, the most
expensive and likely the biggest serving on the menu. Two
full-size cakes, almost all lump meat, with a minimum of
binder and a few bits of apple and vegetable mixed in: quite
good. This came with a celery root and carrot slaw that
nobody tasted.

Jonathan, intent on breaking my bank, had the ahi carpaccio
appetizer - pretty standard except topped with a Japanese-
style seaweed salad, followed by a 6-oz medium-rare filet
mignon, which was good meat done just medium-rare and thus
underdone for him. At least he didn't pitch a fit, as he
was definitely in the wrong, but he did remark that if he
had known that the restaurant would do medium-rare beef as
ordered, he'd have ordered it medium.

I began with a very neutral, healthy-tasting (but not bad
for that) Jerusalem artichoke soup, followed by a fairly
modest serving of fairly yummy mussels in curry broth with
cauliflower. Finally, I had the tuna carpaccio, which was
thin sheets of seared ahi, nicely flower-petaled around a
smallish plate, with a large dollop of sweet-and-sesame
seaweed salad in the middle. I liked it better than my
brother had.

My brother ended with a brownie-like chocolate cake with
whipped light cream: the former was okay, the latter
pretty disgusting.

Through the meal I nursed a flight of I think Trimbach
Pinot Blanc and Sparr Pinot Blanc and Gewurztraminer.

=

My father had doctor appointments with an hour and half
for lunch, but his first one went half an hour overtime,
so instead of eating as planned at the thoroughly mediocre
Julian's at the Holiday Inn, we had just time to catch a
bite at the fairly nasty buffet. The food reminded me of
high-school cafeteria, perhaps worse. Uncle S.Y. joined us
for this adventure, which was good, as the old man continues
to get frailer by the day, and at times it took both of us
to haul him around.

Mexican-style beef was tough round steak thankfully cut in
small enough pieces so it could be chewed, heated with
canned tomatoes, canned peas, and canned carrots. A tiny
touch of cayenne was noted, but just barely. With this came
yellow rice whose yellowness came from unknown sources.

Baked salmon was surprisingly good, fatty pieces of
reasonably fresh fish not overdone and not ruined by any
arcane seasoning.

Two kinds of commercial meatballs in a canned sweet-sour
sauce. Why use a commercial jelly-ketchup sauce when you
can make your own?

I made most of my meal of fried butterfly shrimp, which
though industrial and overbreaded tasted okay.

Spaghetti with sausage was awful, the sausages tasteless,
the pasta mushy.

Sweet-sour chicken was surprisingly less disgusting, though
there was a sizable amount of flabby skin in with the mostly
white meat. The sauce was neither so sweet nor so sour as
I had feared.

Mixed vegetables included your various squashes and peppers
and some fairly decent broccoli.

There's a salad table as well, from which I got a spoonful
of chickpeas and Uncle got a full salad. Turns out that if
you approach the salad bar, your rate goes up $3 from the
hot buffet price of $8.95 (no bargain to begin with).

Back to the next doctor appointment, where his ears, nose,
and throat got a clean bill of health.

For appointment number three, well, he was supposed to have
made appointment number three, but it turns out that he had
neglected to do so. As he needs a nephrologist, I guess
that he was going to be seen for sure, but at this point,
tired and behind schedule, I left him in Uncle's competent
hands and skedaddled homeward.
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