Text 23538, 65 rader
Skriven 2015-01-31 18:45:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: latest trip 137
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UA1299 BOS SFO 0600 0953 738 2A Ch9 not applicable

My friends Warren and Stan, also bound for Singapore, were
in rows 1 and 3, respectively.

Poor Warren actually had a weird altercation with one of the
FAs - he was in row 1 (no floor stowage) and asked - totally
politely I thought - if his backpack could go in the closet.
The otherwise okay FA pulled the FAA regulations trump card,
claiming that they forbade stowage of passenger property
there. upperdeck gave the universal shrug and upturned hands
"whatever" gesture - which she took umbrage at, and I was
beginning to wonder if I was going to have to stomp off the
plane in solidarity (I did that once with another prominent
frequent flyer, the eventual result being an apology, $1200
in UA vouchers, a surprisingly nice steak dinner and a room
at the Hilton, and Global First the next day). Warren did
the wise thing and took the path of least resistance. I do
suspect that if upperdeck had not been of a different color
than the FA or his carryon had been a nifty suit bag that
said Burberry on it, his request would have been cheerfully
granted.

Otherwise a perfectly ordinary flight with the standard
breakfast, of which I found the sausage worse than usual,
the omelet better than usual (real or at least American-real
Cheddar), the fruit cup exemplary. I watched Bourdain and/or
Zimmern (they mush together after a while), and soon, rather
early in fact, we were let off in one of the more
unattractive passenger areas in the San Francisco airport.

By the way, while I remember, the United Club in these 60s
gates is undersized and dim and not very pleasant. Avoid.
The staff are surpringly cheery, though, given the setting.
Warren and Stan invited me to the Global First lounge,
where I had a glass of Woodford Reserve (Cognac was out) and
one of the most misbegotten food offerings I have ever seen.

There was a pile of air-catering-style foil containers
stacked by a pot of simmering soup with a sign instructing
you to take a container and ladle soup over it. The foil
things contained noodles and sliced stew beef that was
mostly gristle ... and the food was stone cold. So. You
take your container (a sensible person puts the contents
into a bowl) of cold food and puts warm, not hot, broth
on it, and what do you get.

The liquid isn't hot enough to heat the food or to soften
the rather stiff noodles. So you get soggy but still hard
starch topped with still stiff, not very tender, well,
actually very tough, protein. The taste, with star anise and
a bit of garlic is not bad, but the textures are all wrong
and the temperature appalling. Oh, by the way, the noodles
are shrimp-flavored, traditional in some places but perhaps
a surprise to an American first-class clientele.

Stan left his virtually untouched. I ate mine, as I like
stiff noodles and gristly beef. I also tolerate tepid food
well, but this was, even with the broth, borderline cold.

The other two were off to Seoul, connecting to flights to
Singapore from there. I wished them well and see ya soon.
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