Text 29882, 75 rader
Skriven 2012-09-25 10:54:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip to Hap's 297
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US 718 DCA PHL 1515 1624 319 10F

I didn't get upgraded, but at least they gave me the right
throne (there are two thrones with unlimited legroom at the
exit row window on the 319, and when there is nobody assigned
to the middle seat, this is better than first class).

A very tall pilot ended up with the aisle seat, and even
though there is significant extra room in that seat, his knees
touched the seat in front, and he looked a bit cramped, so I
offered to switch with him. He said, no, his place was perfect;
I didn't think so, but that's not my problem.

The flight itself, inconsequential.

When we got off I noticed that this guy was at least a foot
taller than I - my eye level was not that much higher than his
elbows. I felt slightly guilty at not having pressed the guy
to take my seat.

The club offered tomato-red pepper bisque, which though full
of dairy was quite good, excellent in fact with a shake or ten
of Tabasco. I had a bunch of it instead of cheap bad alcohol
for the same price, i.e., zero.

I messed around with this new computer configuration for a
while and wrote the predecessor to this description, where it
went I don't know, and soon it was time to go to the gate.


US 18 PHL SEA 1800 2058 321 4A

There used to be 26 first-class seats, and this used to be
one of the easiest upgrades in the system. They pared it
down to 16, and I was lucky to get one of the last places.

A bustly flight attendant kept me in red plonk for the
flight. He informed the cabin that he was taking orders
back to front, so sorry in advance to rows 1 and 2 if they
didn't get their first choice meal, as he'd been catered
with eight each of chicken with mushroom sauce and vegetarian
bowtie pasta with mozzarella.

I told him that I didn't care which of these culinary delights
came my way, for which he was enormously thankful.

My dinner: three medium shrimp, elderly and soft, almost
liquid; a salad of respectable mesclun greens with confetti
peppers and cucumbers that had been chilled out in the open,
so their surface had toughened, and a few slivers of almond
of a certain age. 6 oz of white chicken of sawdust texture
with a crust that had once been a brown gravy, its mushrooms
cooked almost to dehydration (making them taste very strong
in a good sort of way). Putrefied broccoli. The overcooked
and half crusted half mushed homefries were the most edible
part of the plate. This kind of meal cries out for a nice
big slice of cake or at least a couple scoops of ice cream
for afters. None was offered.

A somewhat bumpy flight in spells, presumably over various
stretches of mountain.

We landed a hair early, and the club beckoned from afar. I
had a warm coffee drink made with Canadian Club and a couple
tablespoons of International Delight fake cream.

I gave the Hapster a call, and as luck would have it he had
just left the park to pick me up after half of what would
turn out to be another extra-inning loss to the Orioles.
Though we could have eaten, we didn't go past anything that
was sufficiently enticing to make us stop. It was late anyhow.

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