amaebi

18 december 00 - fenix in fotos ~~~ Saturday Hi-dee-ho from 10,000 feet and rising, seat 1D, America West flight whatever from Long Beach to Phoenix. The altitude is fucking with my flu, or common cold, or whatever I have today. Takeoff was beautiful. It's always nice seeing your home megalopolis from an unfamiliar vantage point. I'm so used to takeoffs from LAX and Burbank that I've never even wondered what it might be like to depart from the glorified bus depot known as Long Beach Municipal Airport, which, incidentally, is just big enough to require a second camera shot to capture the whole building from where I parked my car across the street. It really is a puny little airport; even the baggage claim is in the parking lot. Once inside, the place took on a cozy Art Deco vibe. I followed the sign to the bar at the top of the stairs, which made me an impressively strong bloody mary which I carried outside to the observation deck. The weather was beautiful and I played with the camera, even snapping the first of many self portraits (although "portrait" may be glorifying the whole thing a wee bit). Finally, I spotted my plane bumbling toward the building, so I finished my drink and headed downstairs to the departure lounge, where I plopped myself in an overstuffed chair and took more pictures of myself (no comments on the tongue, please). A peek through the window told me the plane was just about ready to board, and it was, so I ambled up the little flight of stairs and settled myself in seat 1D. I ordered another bloody mary, they closed the doors, and we were off. ~~~ Landing in Phoenix was so uneventful that I feel stupid glorifying it with this sentence. The hotel is nicely landscaped with waterfalls and pools and stuff, but as I sit at the lobby bar, I feel strangely detached. Is this a vacation, is this a mental health break, or am I just supposed to lie in my room and vegetate? Why is everyone here half of a couple? Am I the only single man in Arizona? ~~~ Sunday After a mediocre night's sleep somewhat aggravated by the absolute lack of humidity in these parts (and it's playing havoc with my cough), I took it upon myself to visit the Desert Botanical Gardens, highly recommended by the highly cute concierge who turned out to be married, as evidenced by that little band on her little finger that magically appeared just as I was about to ask her to join me for dinner. Funny how that works. The Gardens were beautiful, and I'd highly recommend them as a place to take your loved one or significant other, so you can stroll hand-in-hand through the many forms of desert plant life. As for me, I tried to distract myself from my impending loneliness and brooding obsession with not having the right someone to share this place with. I figured I'd become the artsy-fartsy fotographer and try to be one with the cacti. I was beginning to forget about women (or my lack thereof) alltogether when I stumbled upon this sign. Well, ya learn something new everyday, I guess... So I took more pictures. I waited for Wile E. Coyote to stroll across this vista. I considered taking a swim, and I thought this tree looked really cool. Hey look! Another cactus. Ho-hum. ~~~ Off to Bank One Ballpark to see the United States Womens Soccer Team take on Japan. The game was recommended by the omelette dude at this morning's brunch, and the cute concierge hooked me up with a ticket right behind home plate, which would have been great if the Diamondbacks were playing, but alas, I had but a wonderful view of the corner flag. Bank One Ballpark (the BOB, as the Phonecians call it) is one of those new-fangled places that can turn from outdoors to indoors in under five minutes, courtesy of a giant retractable roof and very big shutters behind the outfield. It had a cool vibe, and the beer was cheap. Soon the teams took the field and my first impression was that the Americans looked like giants next to the Japanese, and thus Japan would get their asses whipped. Instead Japan dominated the first half, I was moderately entertained, and the score was tied at 1-1 when the second half began. I paused for yet another picture of myself. Then US "superstar" Mia (what-a) Hamm got a boo-boo and decided to leave the game to thunderous applause and the screechy cheers of thousands of 12 year old deliverers of future heartbreak. The US played better after Ms. Hamm left the game. Nonetheless, the match ended in a tie, and I flocked out of the stadium with the masses. I wandered around downtown Phoenix for a while looking for a cab, with no luck. So instead I wandered around downtown Phoenix for a while looking for a hotel where I might find a cab, and I wound up at the Hyatt Regency. Noticing the revolving rooftop cocktail lounge, I was unable to resist, and I had a quick martini with two businessmen from NJ who just happen to own a music distribution company. So we exchanged cards and they said they'd check out the band website and I said I'd send them a demo cd. Back down to street level, the glass elevator stopped and admitted a large portion of the US Women's Soccer Team. Goofy and slightly intoxicated as I was, I engaged them in conversation. Carla Overbeck was nice and soft spoken, asked me if I played. "Not in a long time," I replied. "Who's your favorite player?" she asked. "Giorgio Chinaglia," I replied. Old-school. She seemed impressed. We posed for a picture. The woman taking the picture must have had a lot of caffeine that day to make the camera shake that much. And then there was Brandi Chastain. *sigh* All I could think about was that championship game where she ripped her shirt off in front of 100,000 people, garnering the covers of Time, Newsweek, and Sports Illustrated in the process. And she was even cuter in person. I couldn't resist asking her out for a quick drink, but alas, "the team" had plans. (or she was just bullshitting my raggedy looking half-sober self). I found a steadier hand to take a pic of me and Brandi, and then she disappeared through a pair of double glass doors and onto a very nice looking tour bus. As for me, I had the valet dude whistle me a taxi back to Tempe. Surprise, surprise, I finished the evening at this place where I was served rather delicious (for Arizona) fish by these guys (yes, too much sake makes _my_ hands shake). A fitting if anti-climactic end to the day. ~~~ Monday It was probably the combination of aridity and alcohol that caused several capillaries in my nose to burst last night. Not pleasant. I haven't had a nosebleed since I first moved to the west coast. Add strange nightmares involving erotic train rides and past loves, and I was rather grateful to see the sunrise. Checkout, cabride, and an uneventful flight left me back in Long Beach at noon. Less than five minutes after the plane landed, I was cruising up the 405 in my car, windows down, enjoying the "relative" humidity of Southern California. Halfway back to Malibu the traffic stopped dead and I exited to surface streets. I felt compelled to snap a picture of a quintessential LA landmark, which somehow seemed to be welcoming me home.~~~It was a strange trip, neither good nor bad, and if I had it to do again, I probably would because I really needed those frequent flyer miles. I'm having a feeling this entry is gonna be as awkward to read as it was to write, so be it, it's kinda commemorative in a way, today being my mom's birthday, and also marking a year since the relaunch of this site. ~~~ one year ago today: re-entry - i have forgotten to remember how to write rightly, is that right? ~~~ three years ago today: eighth notes - Dude, you don't even _fart_ with soul. ~~~ swim back - swim ahead - email me ~~~