phik

On my way home, in my usual stopover in Denver, I ran into Henry Winkler in the United lounge. He was confused–not unreasonably–by the signs that read “Restrooms, Other Side”; he took them to mean “other side of this wall” instead of “other side of the lounge” and kept walking around this little partitioned area.

I was sitting just a few feet away, and how likely was I to get another chance to meet the Fonz? So I figured I’d be helpful, and walked up, did the Fonz double-thumbs-up thing, and said “Aaaaaaay, the restrooms are over there.”

He seemed a little confused, or perhaps more likely tired of being addressed in the manner of Fonzie for the last 30 years. He thanked me politely and found the restrooms on the other side of the lounge.

I boarded my flight a little bit later, flew uneventfully home, and wrote this up. While looking for an appropriate URL for Henry Winkler, I found nothing but horribly out-of-date press photos. I mean, they sure didn’t look much like Henry Winkler.

As it turns out, Henry hadn’t aged quite as I’d imagined.

It was Richard Belzer.

Jacob only tells half of the story regarding the Feud:

Richard Dawson: Name a fabric a dress is made from

phik: Silk!

Jacob: Cloth!

Joe: Felt!

And then, as if to somehow redeem himself, Joe followed up with flannel.

I like Heathrow a lot more now that I know about the priority immigration fast-lane.

Apparently BMI would rather have a seat go empty than allow a customer ticketed on a later flight to standby. Oh sure, I can pay the fifty pounds to change the ticket, but that’s most of the price of the ticket in the first place. The ticket agent was very nice about it, of course. “If we allowed that, nobody would ever buy a flexible fare. It’s basically travel extortion, I’m afraid.”

So I killed a couple of hours in the BMI lounge, freshened up, and flew to Edinburgh to find Patrice waiting for me!

I may or may not have made this clear during my last trip, but: everything they say about Indian food in Britain–namely that it’s good–is true. At least in my limited Scottish experience. And really, if exellent Indian food made it that far north, I’m sold.

Despite getting a goodly amount of sleep (aided by the delightfully unending wine and port) on the plane, I was still trying to overcome a 12-hour shift in my sleep schedule, so I crashed pretty soon after we stuffed our Indian-holes. But I made it until 21h, a fine accomplishment, and slept for the next 14 hours.

you can tell this was from my last trip, because it’s cloudy

Actually Chris and I both slept for some 14 hours, but I don’t know what his excuse is. He’s probably been up late studying lately.

After a late breakfast we walked up to Edinburgh Castle from which I saw something that I completely missed on my last trip to Scotland: the sun.

Many decent photo collections and castle histories must exist–of which this is but one–which will certainly do a better job than I will. I’m not sure if castles are so fascinating because they’re centuries older than anything we have in the New World, or because medieval siege sites are inherently cool, or what, but they certainly are.

On our way back we stopped at a cozy pub, of which there are many, and had some hearty food–of which, surprisingly, there is less. Unlike the Arrow and the Loon–the standard to which I hold all others, quite frankly–many pubs here appear to stop serving food around suppertime, which can make late-night shenanigans tricky.

Nevertheless, we made up for another deficiency of my last trip, and ordered some haggis–a first for Chris and Patrice as well. To put this in perspective, my entire concept of haggis is based solely on So I Married An Axe Murderer, where Mike Myers explains that “It’s repellent.” I’m sorry to let you all down: haggis is just spiced sausage, and it’s delicious.

Chris’s Flat

The sketches and drawings of Leonardo DaVinci are being exhibited in the gallery at the Queen’s Residence, and they are excellent. Surprisingly, none of the sketches featured his inventions; instead, these were a collection of test sketches for paintings, doodles, anatomical drawings, and sketches that were finished works in their own right. Equally surprising were the kiosks on the ground floor, on which you could view a number of the Crown’s art holdings. The software was terrific; it had a nice intuitive UI, a responsive touch screen, and let you zoom to absurd levels of detail.

Patrice had to head home to pack for her trip and get a Spanish lesson, so Chris and I wandered around Edinburgh and eventually took in a fine film. For dinner we stuffed our holes with fish at the appropriately named Fisher’s, with more sticky toffee pudding. I will miss it so.

My trip home was relatively uninteresting. The inside joke is still hanging at the Edinburgh airport. The BMI woman didn’t give me any guff this time. Jacob successfully re-booked and upgraded my ticket for me. I should hire that guy.