Text 19551, 64 rader
Skriven 2011-12-30 23:36:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 433
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US1991 BDL PHL 0700 0827 734 2F

Dave was very generous of spirit and drove me to the airport at
5 am. An awful time, but as it was the beginning of Christmas
week the ticket counters were jammed, and then the line for
security snaked down almost to the Sheraton. Security took half
an hour. There was a guy who had an 0550 to Miami, connecting
to someplace like Dallas and then from there to Tampa - he clearly
was in some anxiety; we chatted for a while; I convinced him that
life was not all bad, there might be a silver lining in the cloud,
maybe he could get a better connection if he missed his flight. At
the machines he chose the shortest line; I just took the first one
I came to. Voila, I was through like a greased pig and went to his
gate, where the flight was just barely still open. I hoped his
experience was better than mine and he had gotten on. Oops - he
came trotting along about three minutes later, the door having
closed in the meantime. I told him to get rebooked, and I'd let
him be my guest at the club, only I was going to be gone in half
an hour. He didn't show up, even though I was at the club for 40
minutes. I hope he got on some other flight in the meantime. At the
club I had a very poor man's mimosa - orange juice and Sprite -,
which the agent at the desk had to leave her post to get me, as
she was the only one on duty.

My flight boarded up a tad late but took off a tad early. First
class had 6 empties: row 1 left and row 2 right were occupied by
two males each; row 1 right and row 2 left by one female each,
both quite attractive; row 3 was empty. My seatmate periodically
looked longingly over at 2A, a slim modellike blonde. I slept
through 90% of the flight so have no idea if food or drink was
served.

We landed 5 early, with the usual chortling announcement to that
effect; then we spent 10 minutes holding before we could get to
the gate. I hate that.

I went to the United club for a beer - ended up having 62 oz
in the space of an hour and half, approximately one gulp per
minute, thanks to deft selling by Peter, the sub-bartender.

Then the shuttle bus to the hated F terminal, which is home to
one of the largest collections of uncomfortable aircraft in the
first world.

US4118 PHL IPT 1115 1208 DH8 4F

A nothing flight, as usual. Back home, Billy looked decent,
considering what he's been through and the dire prognosis.

For lunch I made myself a mixed beef leftovers plate - pot roast,
corned brisket, and Wegmans medium rare London broil lunch meat:
this last was a major disappointment, as it was chopped and formed
and solution injected and quite salty. Annie is not fond of
leftovers but saves a lot more than she used to, thanks to my
nagging over the last nearly 40 years. She makes a good pot roast
and corned brisket, for example, and saves stuff like that for me
(freezing sometimes as needed), but does not do so for herself,
denying the house the joys of hash, shepherd's pie, and the like.
I guess part of it is she never had any exposure to leftovers as
a child, being a doctor's kid whose mother didn't cook.

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