2004-04-23 - 10:59 a.m.
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We’re driving through to Flagstaff, Arizona, that real live train set of a western town I love so well. Soon we’re on I-40, a road we’d be on and off again the better part of a week. It mirrors the old Rt.66…you know “Flagstaff, Arizona, don’t forget Winona, Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino, etc.”…Never mind. We bed down and in the morning Amanda, John and I decide to take a quick run up to the Grand Canyon. Amanda’s never seen it and it would be a real shame not to see it being so close and all. We talk Carey into coming along at the last minute. He loves the canyon as much as anyone. The wait to get through the ticket gate is interminable. It was worth it though as soon we are gazing into the chasm of chasms. When you look at it, it seems as in a dream. Photos cannot possibly do it justice and for a second time within a week I am made to feel humble and small. We stop at a few vantage points and then make our way back via the Desert Rim. Lunch (including fantastic coffee at “I’m Late For The Train”) then load in. We’re back at The Orpheum Theater again. After sound check I wander around a little. I find myself once again in the little Native American gallery on old Rt.66 looking at the mysterious Cochinas there, knowing I can’t afford to buy one but still wanting one all the same. I struggle with the “wanting to possess” thing occasionally. Books, music and art are what I find I most want to possess and so I find some justification. I know in my heart’s mind that, as with all, it’s an illusion.
I eat a solitary meal at the restaurant Kacha, which is attached to an old hotel in the center of town. It’s not the best Thai food but then I’m spoiled; living a few miles from one of the best Thai eateries outside of Thailand, the fabulous Saen in my home, Shawnee-On-Delaware, PA. There is more folks at the show than the promoter anticipated, which is a good thing. The show is well received and is marked by the first “bra throwing” episode of the bands career. No bras were thrown at me. Due to my habit of frequently playing with my eyes closed (squinting to see God actually) I probably would not have noticed.
Phoenix. What a place. If ever I have seen a city less deserving to exist I don’t know when or where. Sprawling desert town sucking the Colorado River dry. Our first interaction with the populace does not go well. We regularly Price-Line our hotel rooms and as a result we stay in 4 or 5 star joints for the price of Econo Lodges. Recently the disturbing trend in the Price-Line world has been the exclusion of double rooms as options. This means we have to call ahead to confirm double beds and are at the mercy of the hotels largesse. This particular hotels largess was not large at all. They patently refused to upgrade our single bed rooms without collecting a $25 per room charge, which effectively eliminates the price-line advantage. They were surly, unhelpful and unfriendly and so dear readers, I cannot recommend The Best Inn at the Phoenix Airport for your future stay in the greater Phoenix area. On the way to the club a young woman who refused to let us get into the lane to exit gave us the finger, nearly causing us to miss our turn. It was nearly enough for us to say “To hell with Phoenix anyway” until we experienced the warmth and good nature of the crowd at The Rhythm Box that evening. Everyone from the owner, promoter, wait staff and the crowd made us feel extraordinarily welcome and made us look forward to our return to the town that water made.
We are looking forward to spending 2 nights in Albuquerque and then 2 nights in Santa Fe. Any time you don’t have to switch out of your room is a good thing. We’re joined once again by our friends Anne and my fishing buddy Dave, both down from Colorado for the New Mexico shows. Dave picks me up at the hotel and we go for coffee by the club. The intrepid Luke the Wonder Dog, who also happens to be quite the chick magnet, accompanies us. I love Dave’s easygoing nature. I feel equally comfortable with him either in deep conversation or simply driving along watching the countryside roll by.
We’re back at Stella Blue for the third time. There’s a great used clothing store next door and I find a couple of cool shirts. One is a short sleeve cowboy shirt whose shiny silver material gives it the look of gabardine. The other is a short sleeve cream-colored linen shirt from Neiman Marcus that would cost $100 if you bought it new from their catalog. The show’s nearly full and once again we have a great time. The bar is opened to us after the show, which is usually a dangerous thing. The danger is made real and with Andy as our designated driver, we totter off into the night.
We get up late, peering through the fog of hangover and take our time getting to Santa Fe. It’s our first time in this town and we’re playing the premium mid-sized venue called the Paramount. It’s a great room that, unfortunately, is only 1/3 full. Some folks that were at the Albuquerque make it out and even Chuey, a young Navaho lady from the Phoenix show, makes the trip over from the Navaho Reservation. Sweet Anne takes us all out to brunch at a fab eatery called Pasquals the next day. Afterwards we stroll the streets around the Plaza looking at all the shops and galleries. One such gallery contains prints from original plates by the famed photographer Edward Curtis. He photographed most of the Indian tribes west of the Mississippi River. Realizing their way of life would soon vanish; he set out on a life long mission of documenting them trough the lens of his camera. His prints are very painterly and incredibly moving. I remember a complete set of his original Indian portfolio fetching over a million dollars at an auction at Sotheby’s about ten years ago. I had to fight to stay my hand from my Amex card with all my might. Todd made the plunge and purchased a spectacular portrait of a brave dressed in a fearsome bearskin. Just amazing, amazing stuff! I saw many beautiful things and finally wound up at a lovely little bar where we all met for drinks on the deck in the fading light. A couple of Margaritas seemed the right way to end the day. Andy and I had some great Indian food and then after checking my e-mail, I went to bed early. We made some new friends and connected with some old ones. We leave in the morning and take the scenic route down to the Interstate. We truly live in a beautiful country.
