Text 383, 92 rader
Skriven 2013-05-24 11:01:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: bbq outing 593
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UA1584 DCA ORD 1203 1317 738 36C
was            0938 1040
was 280        1030 1130 320 21A was 37F
was 329        1139 1242 319 2A

Low ceilings and a ground stop in Chicago led to a big mess
here at this dingy, crowded gate area where lines were long
and tempers short. I decided to try for an earlier flight,
which was an experience - eventually I got a boarding pass
for 280, which was rejected at the gate; the agent said
that my reservation was not synched, implying strongly that
I would have a better seat coming. By the time this began to
be straightened out, the announcement was made that there
was no longer any carryon space, and as I had fragile items
spread between the two bags, I told them to forget it, and
I'd get on the next flight (i.e., the earlier-scheduled
one), where I got at least an aisle (the middle guy kept
looking enviously at it) but in the dreaded second to last
row. Turns out there was a duplication of BPs ... actually,
it appears an old lady was in the right seat but the wrong
Chicago flight, but the FAs tried to fix the problem with
as few hurt feelings as possible (kudos to them), and they
left some guy standing in the galley for a good quarter
hour. Patience was rewarded: they found him an exit row
window. HEY! They didn't offer that seat to me! What gives?

A bumpy cloudy unpleasant bad-smelling flight, for which of
course I have to blame Jeff Smisek, the president of the new
Continited, and his evil machinations.

It turned out my connection too was over an hour late, and
if I'd stuck with my comfy chair on the noon flight I'd have
made it, but there was no way of knowing that, and if I'd
missed it I'd not have gotten to Kansas City for at least
another day, so sitting in the waywayback and fretting a
little was probably better than sitting in a severely
delayed plane being fawned upon by the crew while fretting
a lot about missing Lilli and my other friends and several
pounds of barbecue.

UA 701 ORD MCI 1524 1655 319 2F

Of course I made the flight, and it was fine but didn't
make up much time: we landed an hour late. Courvoisier is
a good thing.

Lilli was waiting patiently at the rental counter, and
shortly we were tooling off down the highway to Kansas,
where our first planned destination was Rosedale, but as we
passed it, it looked empty, with nary a car in the parking
lot. So we bypassed it for stop 2, Woodyard BBQ, an
authentically ramshackle couple buildings with some outdoor
furniture that it was way too cold to use. We ordered half
a pint of burnt ends from the genial counterman; when it
came it was brisket, somewhat steamed-tasting, but well
seasoned and with good smoke flavor - quite respectable, on
the whole. The sauce is a standard tomato and celery seed
concoction; it comes in regular and hot, the hot not being
extremely hot. While there we compared notes with some more
people who had come in on the same mission, i.e., hit as
many Q joints as possible in the shortest possible time.
Their favorites were Jack Stack, Jack Stack, and Jack
Stack, with honorable mention for Oklahoma Joe's and BB's
Lawnside. We also gleaned the information that Rosedale
was in fact open.

So back we tracked, and discovered that there were a few
cars in the lot by now. So we went in, buoyed by the sign
that said "founded 1934." If it's been around that long,
it can't be too bad, can it. And the reviews out on the Net,
though mixed, did make it sound like a mother's milk kind
of place.

It's a bar, dimly lit. Long tables with a few people chowing
down. One bartender/waitress, of the grumpy/friendly sort
you get in dimly lit ramshackle bars.

The usual half pint of burnt ends, which came pale and lean,
no red ring, some brown here and there on the outside parts.
It tasted like boiled brisket but with less appeal, as it
seemed to have been boiled in unseasoned water. The sauce
was similar to Woodyard's but not so good. The bartender/
waitress wondered where everyone was; I was polite enough
not to answer. Halfway through the meal, Lilli became
indisposed, a good excuse for us to do takeaway with the
rest of the plate (which, after a tentative taste later in
the hotel to verify that it was as bad as we thought,
ended up unlamented in the bin).

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