Subj : Phoenix
To   : ALL
From : MICHAEL LOO
Date : Thu Jun 22 2000 06:51 pm

One thing I forgot to write about BOS-SFO last week was that I noticed
that there was a guy on the plane who was more interesting to the
FAs (female) than I was, so I hung around the front galley
and listened for a few minutes: all I caught was "When we were
playing San Diego in the Superbowl ..." - the questions I have for
you are 1. what team was that; 2. what year was that? And 3. why
is some football player who makes a mere million dollars a year
more alluring than me, who make at least 2 percent of that?
- - -
So, I was trying to get from Washington to Phoenix (routing for
the mileage bonuses) and my connections got all balled up so I
ended up flying Providence-Chicago-Phoenix and arriving
3+ hours late - missing my appointment, which would have
included a nice steak dinner - and having to trade my entire
emergency stash of upgrade coupons to get out of flying in the
seat that the computer gave me, which was 35D, and losing all
my mileage bonuses to boot (will complain to UA soon about this).

The PVD-ORD leg is a snack flight, but what they were serving
to us (I got 3A, which is better than 35D) was a so-called steak
dinner: a wilted ratty salad with Provolone cheese; a 6-oz
filet mignon that was actually medium and fairly tasty, although
cold; sad vegetable batons, including some of the most malodorous
old zucchini I've seen in a while; a cold wheat roll with a cold
pat of butter; and a large wedge of polenta that had perhaps
seen better years - I cut into it, and there were these shriveled
dark brown corn kernels in a dense, tasteless bread. Dessert was
Eli's mud pie cheesecake, and as I thought I might need the
calories, I ate it with many many pills: it was okay, the crushed
chocolate wafer crust salty as anything, and the cheesecake being
about somewhere between bland and subtle. I ordered a Johnny
Walker Black Label, which I chugged. And so I got my minimum
calories for the day with little pain but little enlightenment.

After sitting around working (also answered my last mail packet)
at Chicago for almost 2 hours while the plane sat idle, I got
back on and settled down; had a nice glass of water and prepared
to doze off. Immediately we leveled off at 41 thousand (this next
leg was pretty empty, compared to the chockfull previous leg),
we were given a choice of white or red wine and a choice of
baby back ribs or jambalaya. Turns out this is Taste of Chicago
month, and UA is feeding us real food! I told the FA that I
never thought I'd live to see the day when I'd eat baby back ribs
on a plane. They were from a Chicago place called Robinson's,
and they were seven smallish but leanish ribs, and they were
pretty good - smoky and covered in a not-too-sweet sauce that
was easy to scrape off. Three potato logs, one of the worst
things I've ever been served anywhere. Corn relish (good).
A tomato focaccia, okay; and an Italian-style layered cake
for dessert (quite respectable). I had Beck's beer on the side
(wine doesn't really go with BBQ, and the MGD they said they
had had been mysteriously replaced with Miller Lite, yuck) -
but as they only had one, I had to share it with someone.
An excellent flight, and the FAs were very nice, and afterwards
they gave me a bottle of the Louis Martini Chardonnay, which I
brought back as a house gift for these people I'm staying with,
which is good as I was essentially empty-handed, not having had
enough time to shop for a house gift.

My friend Bill, also Premier Exec, drooled when I said I'd had
Chicago baby backs. On Shuttle, which he takes all the time, they
serve the following for food, no matter how long the flight: 0.

My hosts and I met Bill Wise (former RIME sysop - neat guy,
semi-retired keyboard player, member of musicians' union Local
586) at Bank One Ballpark on Sunday and watched the Diamondbacks'
ace Randy Big Unit Johnson get whacked with multiple taters for
a 10-4 loss to the Atlanta Braves. Johnson gave up 4 home runs,
a career high, and there were a few more on one side or the
other through the rest of the game. I knew it was going to be
extra interesting when the first pitch of the game got hit into
the right field seats. BOB looks like a giant airplane hangar
and although it is well enough built (with windows that open
and close and a roof that does the same) just isn't right for
a ball park, as far as I can see. Plus a 12 oz beer costs $5
with a pint going for $6; lemonade is $3.50; and cookies (and
Rice Krispies marshmallow treats) for $3 a pop. There was a
Father's Day promo going on, so the first 10000 guys got a
free Palm-Mate remote control (definitely a guy gift); as I have
not a TV, cable TV, or a VCR, I gave mine to Bill. Only notable
thing about the game, aside from Johnson getting shelled, was
that some lady behind me upset her raspberry slushie and I got
slushie juice all around my seat; the lady then spent the rest of
her stay at the park moaning about how filthy it was. When she
left, which was thankfully soon, I looked back and noted that
the row she was in was by far the dirtiest, messiest row, and
her seat in particular had the most junk around and under it.
I grabbed a bottle of water they'd left behind and rinsed off
our area. We waited to the bitter end and then headed back in
97 degree heat (after a high of 107) back to Mesa, where I am
writing this now.
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