AA2406 LAX DFW 2359 0507 321 was 32B 4AC was 2A, 3A

First of all, we were assigned beds one ahead of
the other, but this in a cabin that has only 2
places per row up front; there is a business class
with 2+2 seating, which is what we were shooting
for in the first place, but who is going to pass
up the accommodations. But somewhere along the
line, our internationally configured equipment was
switched to an ordinary domestic 321, which meant
not only no bed at all, but we were separated by a
row. Also, this aircraft has the tightest front
cabin of any anywhere; though the references say
that it's standard, passengers agree that that's
not so. Ah, beggars can't be choosers. We did check
in at the gate and managed to get seated together
in the nonreclining last row of the cabin, and we
were thankful for that. A snack was served; I was
asleep for it, and Lilli was too busy playing Word
Connect to eat.

AA2336 DFW MIA 0625 1008 321 was 32B 1AC

We had been assigned row 1 and didn't bother
changing, because this was also supposed to be one
of those fancier craft, so there should have been
no disadvantage to row 1. We boarded to find, ta
da, another ordinary 321. Ah, well, Lilli called
the reservations desk to complain and got some
commiseration but nothing else.

The flight was fine, and breakfast, well, we
both turned it down.

The Sheraton Miami Airport is pretty nice in a
1970s-'80s way. From the self-consciously
jet-setterish lobby to the rooms with their 1970s
Good Housekeepinglike appointments, everything
conspired to make us feel comfortable who grew up
half a century or more ago. And so we snoozed - I
reluctantly, as I'd slept, Lilli gratefully, as
she had played games all night.

We roused ourself shortly before dark - if we
were to go out at all, this was the time to do
it, before my eyesight gave out (Lilli has
absolutely no sense of direction). The
temperature was around 80, not unbearable even
with the humidity, which was about the same.

Not far from the hotel, past the transportation
center, is Rincon Criollo, which I'd heard good
things about, and it's a straight shot north, so
that's were we went.

The front patio, rather hot and humid, was abuzz.
The inside, freezing cold, had ust a couple tables
occupied. Presently the reason became clear. A
server told us to sit wherever we wanted, and
shortly some extremely loud entertainment started
outside, one or two musicians - either a singer and
an accompanist or a singer accompanying himself -
backed up by a rhythm machine. When the door was
closed, the restaurant was freezing but quiet; when
it was open, it was warmer but insufferably loud.

It's a pretty extensive menu of Caribbean and
Central American favorites and looked appetizing
in a heavy way. Despite the oppressive humidity,
we ordered heavy anyway. We could have ordered
one plate (main and 3 sides) and an appetizer and
been done with it, but where's the fun in that.

Lilli got vaca frita, which turned out to be
deep-fried skirt or flank or flap steak, hard to
tell because it had been done pretty crispy. With
came a huge mound of fries, medium-cut, pretty
standard, and moros y cristianos (counting as two
of her three sides). The latter were rice and
beans stewed together, which makes for harmony
but not at all what one expects; plenty of garlic
and onion, in the marinade of the meats also.

My lechon asado was a pretty standard pork
shoulder, not very lechon, cooked to almost as
hard a crisp as the vaca frita had been and in
fact almost indistinguishable from it. I had
tostones, which I liked even if the plantains
were a little sweet for my taste; I also took
the precaution of ordering my black beans and
white rice as separate sides, which I prefer.
The beans were excellent, this being Miami
after all, the rice a little salty but decent.

It was a lot of food, and we took some back for
breakfast (or, as it turns out, lunch).
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