Text 37119, 100 rader
Skriven 2010-04-25 10:33:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: talia 066
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Back in New York, having dodged the volcano - many of my
friends did not, some having been delayed up to a week
because of the backlog. Rome was never closed - it ended up
right on the edge of the ash cloud - whereas Milan and other
similar cities just a couple hundred miles away suffered
mightily. Not that I'd mind another week of enforced leisure.
Especially with Lilli, who, though not partner material (she's
too married among other things), is a lot of fun to travel with.

One sad thing is that lots of stranded businessmen from
Milan, Munich, and Zurich took the train to Rome, the first
open airport, and bought full-far C tickets, and all my
lovely business class seats evaporated.

==

UA7484 PVD IAD 1010 1139 CR7 1A

Owing to quantities of diuretics in my system, I traded my
usual window seat for an aisle, and the only aisle seat
available on the whole plane was 1A, not my favorite for
several reasons. So I was the first aboard to stow my junk.
No problem with the briefcase, of course, but the
rollaboard, which fits beneath the seats or, with some
coaxing, into the overhead, was being a little balky, so
I started jiggering it around, whereupon the pilot came
out to tell me, "you're gonna break our bins." All right, I
quit trying (the thing really does fit) and gave it up to
be gate checked. I muttered something about how I hated RJs
of every stripe, and the pilot guy caught something but not
all the everything, and challenged me to repeat what I said.
So I did. To my shock and surprise, instead of degenerating
into a pissing match and having the cops come, the encounter
degenerated into a discussion of why Canadair aircraft are
so hated (he defended them, telling me that this was a
splendid little aircraft - of course, it was in his self-
interest to do so). Well, even if it can handle like a BMW,
it's still uncomfortable to ride in and has these teeny
overhead bins. Worse than Embraers? Yes.

I asked for Jim Beam straight up and got Jack on the rocks;
the pleasant FA offered to repour the order, but I said,
just give me an empty glass; I strained the more or less
pure liquid into it. This gave me the leg up I needed to
pretty much sleep through the whole flight.

We came in early and pulled up almost to the gate ... and
then powered up and drove away. Circled around and came
back to the gate, only this time behind several other
aircraft: I figured that one of them had something more
important going on, maybe a medical emergency?

The LH club wasn't open for another hour, so I weighed the
possibilities: United club? Five Guys? I chose the former and
refreshed myself with an unripe banana and some Chessmen.

I'd never been on the AeroTrain. Having seen it I don't
like it - it seems to combine all the unpleasant aspects of
other such systems while adding no distinguishing features
of its own. Plus the C-gates stop is nowhere near the gates
but rather where a putative future set of C gates may be
built someday.

I went to the Senator lounge shortly after opening; headed
to the bar to find "no self service" signs and no service
persons handy. There were all these enticing bottles just
out of reach, so I went up on tiptoe and investigated; alas,
they were fakes. The beer and soft drink machines weren't
working, either - just some carafes of juice. I poked my
nose in the kitchen and asked someone for a Glenlivet
(they're stocking the 15) neat; got one with lots of crushed
ice: I guess I have to practice my English. The ice maker
had recently been cleaned, the proof being that the smell
of bleach pretty much overpowered the smell of Glenlivet.

The cold cut platter that these lounges are known for was
limited to ham that tasted like bologna and turkey that
tasted like bologna. Accompaniments on this table included
various salady things, cut fruit, and - the nicest thing
in the place - cheesecake, which I don't eat anyway.

A pretzel station with squeeze packs of mustard.

The hot table had what I thought was vegetable curry but
turned out to be a chicken a la king-like substance over
brownish rice; there were also cheese tortellini in yellow
cheese sauce, succotash, and mini-pizzas alla Jeno's.

Jelly beans, gummy bears, pretzel mix, and chocolate-chip
cookies that weren't as good as the United onboard ones.

After fooling around a while on the Internet, I noticed my
friends Terry and Mo, about to embark on what I understand
was a severely lengthened trip to Paris. We chatted for a
while, and I tried to convince them to go find my travel
companions Lilli and Gregory the Revenooer. We agreed that
if we found ourselves in the vicinity we'd meet them at
the international (Gregory's least favored) club.
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