Text 28286, 84 rader
Skriven 2012-08-16 10:30:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Bye Alaska 122
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We cabbed downtown to the Sheraton, where a pair of excellent
beds awaited. In the morning the Jade restaurant offered one
of the most delicious renditions of sausage gravy I have
ever had on the otherwise average (though abundant)
breakfast buffet. What was notable? Real sausage, no ground
naughty bits, TVP, starch filler. Real white gravy, made
with real, not skim, 1%, 2%, reconstituted dry milk. Following
these brekkers in the shadow of the famed Million Dollar
Staircase (made of jade bits and after which the restaurant
was named), we lounged about a bit in the lobby, after which
Swisher picked us up for a couple days of r&r; we saw Lilli
off at the airport and headed back to Muldoon for more beer
and some good Alaska fare (no seafood, though - Bill fishes,
but neither he nor Connie eats the spoils, as they think it
tastes spoiled). At the end of this recuperatory visit, on
the way back to the airport, I took the two of them to lunch
at the Peanut Farm, Anchorage's oldest and finest sports bar,
something like that. I had a relatively excellent halibut
and chips, an oddity being that one of the three pieces of
fish was not halibut but rather perhaps pollock. I had only
one Alaskan Amber here, as I had access to a free supply at
the terminal, where I was shortly deposited after the
appropriate goodbyes and hugs.

Contrary to the habits of most of my friends, I did not
pillage the Boardroom of all its beer and cheap wine but
rather had a sedate cup of soup and only one free Alaska
Amber (it's Alaska Amber according to the angels at the
Boardroom; it's AlaskaN Amber everywhere else on the
planet) before my flight.

UA1587 ANC SFO 1410 1950 738 2F

Somehow I got 2F instead of the scenic and shady side 2A
I'd reserved, not a big deal as it was pretty overcast the
whole trip. The plane was full.

The audio had a weird 360-click metronome with the
occasional paradiddle, which improved most of the music
that was on offer. Interesting how much we listen to
clocks in at MM=120.

Something called Journey to the Mysterious Island, which
was the feature movie on about the last 5 flights. I forgot
to look it up on Rotten Tomatoes, but it appears to be the
most hackneyed and formulaic preteen adventure fantasy
possible, with permanent suspension of disbelief required
from about minute three on all the way to the credits.

The usual pasta salad with chicken breast was offered, so
I asked for Courvoisier, which the smiling and flirtatious
male attendant (who looked like Mr. Whitekeys) provided,
carefully warmed.

A bumpyish flight.

Though the boarding pass machine had spat out a warning
about landing in the Continental area in Terminal 1 and
having to take a bus to Terminal 3, we landed in the normal
place, and it was an easy stroll to the United Club, where
a glass of cheap red wine settled my stomach nicely.

UA 724 SFO IAD 2243 0653 763 2A

The plane was packed.

My audio was on permanently full blast, so sleeping to the
dulcet tones of Channel 9 was out of the question, even if
Channel 9 had been offered, which it wasn't.

They offered another pasta salad with chicken breast, but
I just hid under my blanket (I was lucky and got one of
the old relatively sturdy United ones; my seatmate got a
thin Continental one and disgustedly stuffed it in the seat
pocket). With the aid of that wine at the club and a piece
of a Benadryl, I slept until an hour before landing, when a
smiling attendant gave me a cranberry scone, which had a
weird texture and somewhat unattractive taste, not her
fault of course. As with most transcontinentals, we landed
a bit early.

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