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My trip to Arizona was initiated by a client's request to come out for a national meeting. I link business and pleasure when possible so I decided to stay in AZ for the weekend. After all, I owed my good friend Anne a visit; we had been talking about going on an adventure to the Navajo/Hopi grounds and the Grand Canyon. It was to be quite an adventure indeed… * * * Flying into Phoenix, my earliest memories of the place came back with a vengeance… It was the peak of summer. Blaringly, excruciatingly HOT. 110+. Everyone was inside and had only two things turned on and they had them turned on FULL BLAST: the air conditioning and the TV. You could walk down any of the many tract neighborhood streets and see not a soul. The only signs of activity were the rustling blinds or thick blankets hastily hung to cover up the windows and keep out every shard of light. You hear only the whir of a thousand AC boxes and the chatter of so many TV's seeping through the tiny cracks in the tightly encased hideouts. If you were lucky, you were at the water park. But more likely, if you were out and about, you had been conned into making a run to 7-11 for ice cream or to Costco for another case of Mountain Dew. The terrifying mad dash across the driveway… the frantic turning of the key to get the AC going… and the nervous idling down blinding streets praying the engine wouldn't overheat… Well anyway, it was springtime now and I could actually see the cave dwellers out and about. I was moving down the freeway in my rental speeding out of town to beat the Friday rush hour. My ride: a red Ford Ranger with bucket seats, a CD unit and of course air-conditioning. About an hour outside of Phoenix and you're pretty much in the boondocks. The place I stopped at for sundrious snacks was definitely "out there". I picked up crackers and cheese, jerky, a Bud and a homemade blackberry pie for Anne. The roadside saloon next door was jam-packed, not even 6 o'clock and the hootin' and hollerin' had already begun! I BS'd with the lady behind the counter a little and then high-tailed it with my hodge-podge of vittles to the nearest vista point: Bloody Basin.
There was another hour of sunlight left in the day and just about an hour more of driving to get to my friend's place. Soon the sunset along the red cliff walls was getting stunning as I inched closer to Flagstaff. Finally I was in town and met up with Anne at a pub on the corner of Route 66 and San Francisco Street, very fitting. We each had a quick brew and then took off for her place, a ways out of town. Tonight there was a party going on at Anne's friends' ranch up in the hills and we showed up fashionably late. Not that fashion had much to do with the affair, for it was a hippy party out in the boonies and as we approached the door, we heard angelic singing and chanting. There was a performance happening, and sounded like a cross between a folk love-in and a neo-trip-hop rave. We met the two resident dogs - dignified old pooches - as well as the three horses who live on the property, roaming where they pleased. Now it was time to meet the other wild animals. We opened the door and walked into the house. The partygoers were widely assorted and converged around the dessert table - fortunately I had brought the pie, as it turns out this was a dessert pot luck. But forget the pie, folks here seemed to be most interested in "The Chai." People kept coming up and saying "Did you get some Chai", "Do you want some of that Chai"? After a while I started wondering what was in "The Chai." Anyway, I had some. No abnormal hallucinations ensued… * * * Anne and I always end up on an adventure, wherever we go we always have, urban and rural alike. This trip was to be no exception, although I had no idea yet what was in store for us the next day. There was a brief hint as we talked to Ed, whose acreage we were to visit in the morning. Now, I've heard of coincidences but this was funny: Ed had met a guy back in '66 in San Francisco who somehow ended up giving him $7,000 to purchase the property we were to visit, on the fenceline of the Navajo reservation. It was here where he raised seven kids and 30 years' worth of memories. Anyway, what do you think the name of this gentleman was, the one who had made that generous gift back on Haight Street? Bill Buck. Yep. This damn dude had my name, a name Ed hadn't heard mentioned in probably 20 years. Anyway, I joked that I was coming back to check up on my family's investment! He laughed nervously. Really, I wish I could say I was part of the Buck Trust, the famed old estate in Marin County that this chap may have reigned from, considering he had thousands in his wallet in the 60s. The night carried on, guitars and bongo drums littered the living room. The pie was now gone and a migration was happening outside to the bonfire. Suddenly, someone yelled "Come outside, NOW!!!" Great, a rural fire alarm, I thought. Though when we got out to the deck, there was a sight the likes of which shouldn't have been believed! |
