Text 9666, 99 rader
Skriven 2014-02-08 19:57:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: end of reunion 168
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Then across the bridge to the athletic complex, where we
were supposed to be entertained with a symposium entitled
"Brains and Brawn" or something like that, where we got
proof positive that the two are incompatible, with a host
of laughworthy presentations with unbelievable glitches in
the audiovisual systems.

We were offered insufficient warm beer and snacks that would
(if one hadn't paid $90 for dinner) have sufficed for a
light supper, including a hummus that would give Air
Canada's (my favorite in the world, no kidding) a run for
its money. The beer was Sam, so you could drink it warm;
there was also some appalling white wine that you could not.

The technical difficulties and smug presenters left a bad
taste in the mouth; perhaps that's why they ran out of beer.

Lindsay, from wild Room 31 in our freshman dorm, had been
supposed to air a preview of her PBS documentary on high-
school football brain injuries (apparently, thanks in part
to her, this is a hot topic these days). Unfortunately,
the earlier speakers had taken way too long talking about
nothing, and the hardware glitches, well, they would have
no doubt prevented this happening anyhow and would have
done MIT proud.

It was relief that we repaired to an open bar with booze
that was perhaps a notch or two less eminent than what they
regale the 25thers and 35thers with; better than nonexistent
beer, though. I stuck with Beam.

Our table had Donna and Ellen C. and Patty Potter and some
other likeminded souls. Oh, yeah, Rick, cartoonist of Tommy
the Bopper, now doing good work on Katrina recovery.
Luckily, despite their tree-hugging natures, they are not
by and large vegetarians.

The buffet line featured rather tough overdone flank, not
untasty, but I don't want to break another tooth, and
quarter chicken breasts rubbed with cumin and paprika that
also tasted okay, but toughness in chicken is even less
appealing than it is with other meats. The saving grace was
that some health-conscious classmates had abandoned the skin
from their servings, so I managed to scoop up some of that
more chewable and better-tasting substance.

Salmon looked, as steam table salmon generally does, dry and
overcooked, so forget that.

One of the attendants saw me pass on the corn and avocado
salad and pushed it hard; full of red peppers, cilantro, red
onion and dressed with a somewhat spicy vinaigrette, it was
actually pretty decent for cafeteria food, and I went back
for seconds.

After way too much socializing I trained it back to the
Airport station and then made my way to my hotel. Award
stays at Embassy Suites Logan were going begging, so I
got a reasonably good night's sleep followed by what might
be the city's worst breakfast - greasy not in an appetizing
way meats, clotted eggs, bananas that might be green day
after tomorrow. I had a ton of orange juice and promised
myself a slice of cinnamon toast at the club later.

UA 285 BOS IAD 0930 1112 752 8A

Figured I'd walk to the Massport bus, unless there was a
hotel shuttle right there, in which case I'd take that, save
five minutes, and visit the B-team at the club. There was a
shuttle, so I spent the extra buck (tip). The airport was
pretty quiet on a Sunday morning.

When I checked in, the volunteer screen came up, offering a
potential $300, for which, yes, I'd be happy to take the
2 pm flight. The machine spat out a coupon but made no
promises. There is now PreCheck in the C terminal, and
from all appearances they were putting everyone in the lane
- nonetheless, everything went smoothly and getting airside
took mere moments.

I didn't recognize anyone at the club desk. I used to visit
at least twice a month on weekdays and got to be known
there, so it was a slight but predictable disappointment not
to see any of the old crowd.

An unhealthier but more palatable breakfast, with an almost
ripe banana, more OJ, and the e-mail, and I was good to go.

The flight was leaving from the gate right across the way.
I dutifully gave the coupon to the gate agent, who said that
though the flight was way oversold, there were still plenty
of seats, and please take my original place. Oh, well.

This, the former seat 9A, is one of the more coveted places,
and I was interested to see that a non-status flyer was next
to me, all excited about the seat. Wondered how she got
assigned it, but more power to her.
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