Text 28374, 74 rader
Skriven 2015-06-19 06:12:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: SHV 865
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AA2661 DFW SHV 1840 1946 ER4 4AC

Adding the extra two legs cut the price almost in half (an
artifact of the federal Essential Air Services program),
so we ended up at the nasty, brutish, and short Shreveport
airport, where the hotel shuttle, which came in its own
good time, was manned by a guy and a girl who made fun of
our decision to do the tourist thing in a has-been or
perhaps never-was town. Turns out the girl, who I thought
at first was the driver's girlfriend, was a hotel guest,
here for work, who had been running errands about town.

It was hot and dank and muggy and rainy, so my thought of
going for a walk along the river was scotched by the
prospect of some Scotch. Scotch, even bad Scotch, is good.

The Hilton Shreveport is actually fairly nice, attached
as many such hotels are to the local convention center,
which hosts oil people and who knows what else. In the
off season the rates are pretty good, and the rooms, though
not the latest thing, are quite comfy.

We got the corner room on the top floor, which was big
enough. I could I suppose have spent a hundred bucks for a
junior suite and then been upgraded to a real suite, but as
befits a retired person I cheaped out. There was enough
space, and the view over the city toward the bayou and the
river might have been nice if it hadn't been raining.

The diamond breakfast is a continental, but in addition
to the usual run of cereal and other starchy things had
smoked salmon for me and fresh berries for her. We were
given the option of upgrading for an exorbitant sum to the
full, which added eggs to order, sausage, bacon, and fried
potatoes. Not worth it. I had two plates of salmon.

Outside it was cool and rainy, but it sort of cleared up
during the day, so we took that walk: it looks as though
someone had once had big plans for the waterfront, but
as many big plans go, they had been only partially
implemented. Sort of sad. The place has some, although
modest, potential.

The Blind Tiger is said to have the best Cajun food and
burgers in town, so we showed up at opening time, 11 I
think, and there were already people hanging around
waiting to be served. We decided to sit at the bar, as
time was short. The bartender was a hoot. Lilli asked
about wine, and she made a face and admitted that all they
poured was Sutter Home, and "many of the people who order
it don't like it." One lost sale from honesty, as Lilli
stuck with water. I had a Abita double turbo something - a
deep brown ale, thick, sweetish, malty, more a cool climate
warmer than something you'd expect to drink in Louisiana.

Though we'd put an expedite on our food, it was slow in
coming and basically not worth the effort.

Crawfish tails were salty as all getout, the breading
overapplied but at least crunchy. A cup of gumbo was gumbo,
though not spicy enough. I believe the food may have come
from the same factory as other faux Cajun places worldwide.
A request for hot sauce yielded bottles of Tabasco and
Louisiana, both too sour and not nearly hot enough for my
tastes.

Lilli's burger medium-rare came brown all through with
crispy edges. It did taste like meat, though.

It was soon time to head back for our ride to the airport,
so goodbye to the good bartender and the mediocre food.
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