• 940 adventure on the way to San Diego

    From MICHAEL LOO@1:123/140 to ALL on Sunday, February 10, 2019 14:33:08
    So on that last trip I did end up taking Bonnie to
    Classified, United's secret restaurant, and having a
    somewhat peculiar meal there, and the airline must
    think it has a Live One, as the other day in the mail
    came a trial offer for

    The Private Suite is a newly-built private terminal
    - a new gate into LAX that�s far from the traffic
    surrounding the airport.

    Members of The Private Suite don't wait in crowded
    lines because private TSA screening is done right in
    our building. Members don't walk down long crowded
    concourses, or line up at ticket counters and
    boarding gates. They don't deal with baggage.

    And they don't deal with paparazzi.

    Obvious question: do they know who I am??? The part I
    like best: no paparazzi.

    What's the cost of this wondrousness? $4500. But wait,
    there's more! That is just the dues. Actually using the
    service costs 2700 per leg. Nonmembers get the same
    privileges for 3200-3300 a leg. So you have to use
    the membership 9 times a year to make it worthwhile,
    spending some 29000 a year. O-kay.

    They offered me a one-time pass for $1200 + tax. Nah.

    UA1820 BOS LAX 0740 1130 752 2E was 4B was 21D
    was
    UA 207 BOS SFO 0800 1148 752
    UA 207 SFO LAX 1500 1647 752

    Orbitz, in its wisdom, had booked me with connections
    in SF AND LA, for a cost saving of something like $4
    (no problem, more miles that way); then United, in its
    even greater wisdom, changed the schedule and put me
    direct to LA with a 6 1/2 hr layover there, time to
    visit the famous In-n-Out layover, but I had other plans.

    The San Fran flight had 28 first-class beds, whereas
    the LA one has only 16, which kind of put paid to my
    aspirations of comfort and rest on the plane, as this is
    one of the big feeders to the Asia=Pacific routes and
    their high(er)-rolling clientele. I checked before going
    to the gate - ( was #1 for zero seats in first.

    So I decided to preboard and get settled in my nest,
    making sure there was room for my carryons. So at boarding
    I went to a green-lit station and scanned my boarding
    pass, and alarm, alarm, red light, red light. So I beetled
    off to the desk, where they scanned it again, and alarm,
    alarm, red light, red light/ The agent shrugged and waved
    me through.

    So I burrowed into my exit-row place, reasonably comfy,
    with the prospect of nobody else in the row, meaning a
    chaise longue to myself.

    Presently the row in front was filled by some Asians, the
    patriarch in 20D, the next generation in E and F. D kept
    calling to the flight attendant to check on his upgrade
    request - "I'm a million miler," he kept saying. I was
    torn between feeling sorry for him and laughing at that
    I'd score a upgrade long before he'd even be thought of.

    At some point I almost wished that the guy would get
    upgraded, as it seemed so important to him (he kept
    craning his neck and looking at the one empty up front,
    but then I reflected that if he got it, I'd have been
    appropriately incensed.

    I noticed later on that they made a special shout-out
    thanking all the million-milers on the flight.

    So they announced the end of boarding, and no upbrades.
    Fine, I still had three seats to myself, and then the
    S hit the F. Yhe gate agent came by with one boarding
    pass. It was mine. Off I went.

    All the places in eyeshot were occupied, and as I
    blundered about, the woman in 4E touched my arm and
    pointed to her boarding pass. Apparently she had
    rearranged her family so she could keep an eye on her
    child, whom she'd installed in my seat, so I trooped
    up to 2E, a perfectly okay spot.

    The prosecco was just horrid - its bubbles were
    appropriately high-class and suave, but it tasted as
    though it had been fermented apple skins.

    The breakfast choices were oatmeal with dried fruit or
    chicken chorizo crumble over scrambled eggs, which was
    harmless, actually quite improved by the packet of
    Cholula on the side. There was an extraordinary fruit
    cup of pineapple, seedless red grapes, and orange
    wheels, which made me wonder how they could come up with
    this qhailty fruit in midwinter Boston.

    The FA asked if I wanted more bubbly, and I said that I
    had learned my lesson, so he asked if there was anything
    else: the obvious answer, Glenfarclas on the rocks. He
    brought me a double. Later on, he brought an unasked-for
    refill.

    Bwtween breakfast and a lot of booze, that took up
    5 hours of the 6+ hour trip.
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