"We were rhyming things with things" and Other Tales of the Southwest: Part 1

So this is a tough entry to write. Last year, my sister and I take a road trip (the details of which are documented below) and it was good. No plan other than direction; no ambition other than make it at least as far as the mighty Mississippi river. Well, being we had such a good time of it, why not plan a sequel, right?

Now, mind you, we caught a fair amount of flack for driving 2000 miles with only the vaguest notion of what we were going to do. Friends, family and co-workers were all equally perplexed. The nice people of Chicago, who we spent a memorable (if fuzzy) night with were supportive but also confused. For the sequel, decided we'd see what all the fuss was about: we'd plan.

Winter turns to spring and we start making plans, and nothing is off the table. "Bobbo, let's go to the grand canyon! And let's rent a convertible!" Fine ideas both, but we can do more. After many nights in my friendly neighborhood pub, we hammered out this gem of a plan:

1) We fly to Phoenix, rent a convertible for a week.
2) Drive up to the grand canyon, camp there for a day or two
3) Hit up Vegas. (Optional: Be in Vegas by the 7th so my sister can get a tattoo in Vegas on her birthday. Cliche, but awesome)
4) Swing out to San Diego, which by most accounts has some of the nicest weather on earth
5) Drive back to Phoenix.

Mind you, we managed out trip to the mighty Mississippi and back (almost 2000 miles all told) in about 3 and a half days. This should be a cake walk. Hell, by our estimations, we'd even be able to spend a day or two in places we liked. The novelty! A few phone calls and a couple more nights at my friendly neighborhood pub later, and we're booked. Depart NY on June 4th and arrive in Phoenix (but it's a dry heat), AZ to pick up our rental 2009 Ford Mustang convertible (Yee-ha bitches!). Return to NYC 8 days later and declare victory. Simple enough, right?

We leave a cloudy and chilly NYC Thursday morning and touch down in a 104 degree dry heat around noon (gotta love when time zones work in your favor). I can't pretend to know what anyone else is thinking, but what I was thinking was "Oh shit. We just rented a convertible to drive through the desert. Hmmm. I'm gonna look like an angry lobster inside of 20 minutes." We're gonna have to play this by ear.

We pick up the car and it is CHERRY. Well, that's settled: the top goes down - temperature be damned.

"OK, we've got the car. Now what?"
"I say we get a room and hang out in Phoenix for the night. We need to buy supplies for the canyon anyway so we may as well pace ourselves."
"Sounds like a plan!"

We hit up a Walmart (which still hurts my heart) and stock up. OK, we need a tent, a cooler, some water (a helpful bus driver informed us that when in doubt, 'Glug, glug, glug' water while in the desert). I need a bathing suit, a super cool hat so that my head doesn't burn up, maybe some bandannas for when I don't want to wear the hat. My lovely sister has a few must get items of her own and Walmart lives up to it's "We have everything cheap" motto with the notable caveat being when you buy a lot of cheap things, it still costs a fair amount of money. No concern there though. We're on vacation.

It's now back to the hotel where our next task involves finding a bar within walking distance (after a swim in one of the grossest pools I've ever been in). I ain't fuckin around with a rental that we declined the optional insurance for. Turns out people don't walk in Phoenix. It also turns out, a GPS tuned for driving is lousy at giving walking directions. Nearest bar is across the highway from us, we can practically see it: 1.5 miles away. We'll deal with that particular problem when we're drunk and have to get back.

After 20 minutes of walking (and being called an asshole by someone in a car for no discernible reason), we hit pay dirt and it looks like a real shit hole. Works for me. Grab a seat and order a drink. A few weird things about drinking in Phoenix: they won't sell regular pitchers of beer when only one person is obviously drinking from that pitcher, but they will sell incredibly cheap half pitchers to that same person as often as he asks. Clearly, consumption is not their primary concern. We get our drinks and notice that there is not a drop of perspiration on the glasses, bottles, nothing. You don't see that in New York on a hot day. But the drinks are really cheap and we're on vacation, let's keep this going.

I had never really heard of the hospitality of the people of Phoenix and I'm pretty sure I know why now. It's not that they were hostile or any such thing. It's more that they just weren't very receptive to friendly conversation. Now, anyone who's met me knows I'm a bit of an asshole, but I swear that I was just trying to be social. Catherine too. No bites. Maybe it's just me, but when I meet a stranger in my town (especially if they're leaving in the near future), I'm happy to shoot the breeze and compare notes. Not Phoenixonians. Not how they roll. So without that kind of fun camaraderie that we came to appreciate in Chicago, all there was to do in Phoenix was get really drunk on cheap beer. Works for me.

Now seems a good time to bring up one of the...what's the word? Ill-conceived? Ambitious? Ill-combitious? Whatever the word, here was our plan and you can be the judge of its merits: While on west coast time, if we had time to kill, we'd start drinking as if it was eastern standard time, so as to remain on EST throughout our trip and minimize jet lag when we got home. The primary reason (excuse) for this behavior is my sister's stunning inability to read a calendar.

I'll spare you the story about her just getting the day off from work on the day we were scheduled to leave NY, but I can't spare you the details of our intended return trip. While booking the flights, she tells me to just go ahead and book for a full 8 days. She's got the time, she assures me. So I do. Turns out, she misjudged just how much time she had. We were booked to return to NY on Friday the 12th at 11:30PM. My dear sister had work Saturday morning at 7AM. Smooth. So now our EST intentions can be put into some kind of context.

Where was I? Right.

So we get to the bar in Phoenix around 6PM...EST. Hey, fuck it. We're on vacation. After untold hours (a prime side effect of daytime drinking using different time zones is lost hours) of drinking on the cheap, it was time to make our way back to the hotel. After much cursing and a couple of unexplained detours, we finally stumbled into the hotel lobby where we were greeted by 3 dudes sitting in the lobby pounding beers. Here's the hospitality we were hoping for. It figures these gents were from Houston, somewhere/nowhere upstate New York and Boston. Close enough.

Another nice thing about Phoenix bars is they let you buy beers to go, which I did. This part gets fuzzy so I'll just say we talked to those fellas for a few hours about this, that and the other thing. Turns out they were/are more of less living in the hotel for a year now due to some contract job they were on, the poor souls. $DIETY knows how they can do that without killing every one around them, but clearly, they were getting paid so I guess that makes it easier. Nice fellas though.

And then off to bed and on to day 2.

That's where I'm gonna stop this particular chapter. I'll be sure to pick it up tomorrow or some such day. If you've read this far, gee, thanks. More soon.

Rob