Text 749, 95 rader
Skriven 2013-05-08 10:54:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: TR TR 518
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After my concerts, it was time to go southward to check out
the brother situation, but I decided to take a day off before
and visit the Shipps, so flew into Baltimore instead of DC,
which dictated a change in Philly. We got on equipment that
had just been used for the Shuttle, kind of atypical, and a
small one at that, an E90, which has the advantage of having
just 99 seats instead of the Airbus's 124-140, so they can
fill the plane more easily. The problem for me is that there
is one fewer first-class seat, so that cuts my upgrade chances,
and as I am only a Gold (there are two tiers of fancier flyers
above) I need all the help I can get. As it turns out, I was
4th on the list for 11 seats and got my preferred window on
the shady side. We took off and landed close to an hour late,
thanks to low ceilings all up and down the east coast with
rain getting heavier as you went south. During this time, our
energetic young black FA was attentive and good-natured. Even
when it turned out they'd failed to cater the flight (he went
into the bin for the snacks and found only a bunch of empty
baskets) he spent some time scrounging around and found a
partial basket where it wasn't supposed to be and gleefully
presented it. It was early yet, so despite the tickle in my
throat I decided not to make the guy look for a bottle of
booze and asked for a cup of hot water.

Still plenty of time to get the bus to the commuter terminal
and walk to the dead last gate, where though we loaded up on
time, we didn't take off for yet another half hour, not a big
problem as they schedule 40 minutes for a 20 minute flight
that, if they hurry it up, takes a bit less than that. So we
touched down in the rain right on time but waited a good long
time before they could get the gate-checked bags off the plane
- don't know what the problem was, probably a conveyor belt
failure such as the one that made me miss a United flight last
month. I'd told the Shipps that I would be out front at 3,
allowing 56 minutes for a 5 min walk plus time for such mishaps.
Pickup was seamless; as always after our greetings the pressing
question was where to eat. The obvious choices were the Chinese
seafood buffet, which was nixed as we had not been in training
for such an event, and furthermore, there had been recent
reports of stomach upsets coming from there, something Gail
especially did not need given her surgery in a couple days;
the Anne Arundel Seafood place where I have threatened to order
a pint or quart of oysters and slurp them down; and the Texas
Roadhouse, a unit of which lives down the road from the airport.
Guess which won. With the aid of Jack the GPS we tootled down
Mountain Road to Pasadena and found the place right where it
usually is. Unfortunately, it was 3:30, and opening time is 4.
Fortunately, with the state of the world and the echo being
what it is, we had plenty to talk about for half an hour until
the door was unlocked and we were ushered by a cute brunette,
by the likes of whom the premises are overrun, into a giant
booth that could have seated 8, maybe 10 in a pinch.

The usual peanuts on the table (the floor looked just too tidy
for me to be tempted to throw the shells on the floor) but with
a surprising number of I don't know what you'd call them, seconds
- singles, an occasional triple, some moldy ones. Good rolls of
the usual soft sweet sort; Dale noticed that our second basket
had different-shaped ones from the first. We ended up with three
baskets. Cinnamon whipped butter.

Dale and Gail both had the early bird small top sirloin, rare,
sides of chili, giant sweet potato, bacon-stewed green beans,
and rice, all deemed good.

In the beef department I'd had only a 1/3 lb burger all week
and felt somewhat deprived, so I went for the 16 oz strip
extra rare, my usual sides, chili and chili, which this time
came as one big bowl as appetizer. The chili was a surprise
in a good way - no beans (atypical for the chain), somewhat
spicier than usual, with lots of cumin and a hot pepper kick.
Large clods of ground sirloin with some gristle, no fat. To tell
true, with a side of rice that could have been my entire meal.

But I had a pound steak coming, and it was a beauty, with a
nice but unbrowned fat edge, slightly rarer than the Shipps'
rare, not particularly juicy but of good flavor. Extremely
tender for a sirloin, and I suspect shenanigans of a mostly
harmless sort, maybe a quick sprinkle of Adolph or something.

As both Dale and I were somewhat thirsty, we got a pitcher of
Yuengling, which was more than enough, as he was driving.

As it was nobody's birthday that the staff anyway knew of we
weren't subjected to the fake joyous fake rowdy behavior that
we've been heaping scorn on here, just some slightly cheesy
piped-in country-western music - a small price to pay for the
privilege of eating here.

No room for dessert. We wended our way west in intermittent,
sometimes heavy, rain.

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