So I was trying to connect through Dulles and found myself
in the middle of an enormous storm supercell around which
there was no going, plus a military bash in Washington
around which there was no going, and after rolling delays,
my flight was cancelled. The previous flight, which had
been sitting waiting for ATC clearance for 6 hours, was
allowed to go during a lull in pomp and circumstance and
eventually arrived. In our case, the cabin crew came ready
to work and assured us they'd be here all night, except the
pilot never showed up, so I took myself to the Hilton, where
I got a good rate on a room, which they upgraded to a junior
suite, which was a 20x30 box within which there was a king
bed, a double sofabed, two desks with desk chairs, two comfy
chairs, and a largish bathroom with a shower and a bathtub
with its own shower. I tried both showers, of course: the
fixtures were the same, so the showers were mostly the same.
I'd noticed inaccuracies in hotel room maps - notably back
in Las Vegas, where my corner suitette was shown as the
smallest on the diagram but turned out to be almost twice
the size of a regular (Lilli poked her head into one as it
was being cleaned and verified that). The one next, a true
suite, you could tell by the distance between doors, showed
on the map as a regular room.

The lounge bar was open until 10, and I decided I could
justify treating myself to a double Courvoisier at a "discount"
price of $7 a shot. That and a brownie served for my supper.

In the morning, a modest catastrophe when I fell over, having
tried (succeeded, actually) in putting both legs into one pants
leg - the knee that hadn't fitted into the leg got barked, a
sensation I remember from numerous childhood accidents but not
seemly for an elderly gentleman as myself.

I hobbled back to the executive lounge for breakfast and
discovered a number of parties of four to six - paying a little
extra for lounge access is a good investment for a family, or
you could even buy one lounge access and then invite all your
family, friends, and neighbors in (this is technically against
the rules, but ha to that). I found the last seating, a wobbly
deuce, got my protein-filled plate, and on getting back to the
listing table spilled hot liquid - chocolate, hard to get out
- all over my crotch and my white slacks (a feeble attempt at fashionableness). My meal: Industrial scrambled eggs rectified
with butter, but I discovered after all these years that in the
absence of hot sauce, Kraft industrial cream cheese actually
makes the eggs taste better. This sided by industrial bacon that
was half fat (I was pleased, I'm not so sure about others) and
industrial orange juice that might have seen the inside of a
factory sometime last year.

Back to the airport, where security went off without a hitch,
and I had an hour to spend at the Turkish Lounge. The bar wasn't
open (one hardly expects a bar in a Turkish lounge, but there
it was, a good selection of brands including Remy tantalizingly
displayed but behind a barrier, and there was no bartender. I
settled for pretty good orange juice and some chicken stew that
was bland but at least made with thigh meat, sided with pilaf.

A pile of honey flavored lokoum; I asked the concierge if I
could take a couple for the road - she said I could have as many
as I wanted and (I'm not sure if she was joshing or not) offered
to go back to the kitchen and get me a tray to go. I took just
the couple pieces.

I traipsed down to the low A gates just in time to get seated
in my throne and fly off to the wonderful Elmira-Corning
regional airport.
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