"Beer and Loafing in Flagstaff, AZ"

Beer and Loafing in Flagstaff AZ.

This is a trip we had been planning for over a month. The tickets were purchased. The motel rooms booked. We got the time off of work. Now all we needed was for things to run smoothly.

The plan was to see my alltime favorite metal band High On Fire play up in Flagstaff, which is about 300 miles north of Tucson, on Friday night, October 1st. It was a trip the three of us (She-Ra, good buddy and High On Fire convert Tim and myself) were very much looking forward to. Not only were we jazzed about losing our skulls and necks to the doom infused war metal that High On Fire provides, but to get ourselves into a bit of cooler weather.



Flagstaff rests in a higher elevation and is a little township surrounded by pine trees and always a good 20 if not 30 degrees cooler than Phoenix and Tucson. A good change of scenery would be welcome as well. Lately the three of us have been so immersed in work and various projects that even the quick passing desert landscape from inside of a car felt like a release.

Our plan was this: get to Flagstaff around 4pm, check into our motel, walk around and discover the little hillside city (a place I had never been to and She-Ra only once or twice yet Tim knew quite well so we had a tour guide), grab some dinner then head into the Orpheum Theater, where the bands were playing and rock out. Afterward we'd grab some drinks then head back to the motel and crash. Next day we'd grab some breakfast, walk around another part of the town, drive back home and be back in Tucson by 8 or 9pm. Sounded relatively simple right?

Yeah. Here's what really happened!

I myself got up rather early, as I usually do. Stoked about the trip and show ahead of us, I really couldn't sleep in since my mind was buzzing. So I did all of the packing, made sure the pets had plenty of food and water, laid down newspaper in the hallway in case doggie lays a doody (which, for some reason, is his favorite place to poop if he's left alone too long), cleaned out my trusty cooler (yes, the same one I've had since the early 90s...look, it's tradition and still works kids) and even made snacks. She-Ra, on the other hand, was dead asleep. Now that it's football season, she's been running her behind off to make sure those sports fans, with eyes glued to the huge plasma screens, don't run out of beer or booze. So she's earned the rest. So I figured if we left by noon we'd still be in Flagstaff by dinner.

Tim started texting us around 9am. Well, her...I still don't own a cell phone. He, like me, was super excited to get going. So by around 10:30, She-Ra finally starts stirring and we get the car packed and out of there by 11ish. First we have to stop by the bank to deposit money we're going to be spending in about 4 hours and to Staples where they have to reinstall all of the printer programs they accidentally erased when they cleaned our computer recently. So by the time we grabbed Tim, then some food, we were on the freeway by almost 1pm. OK, so we'd get there by 5. That's fine.

The drive was going fine. Tim told us that he had been up all night, seeing as he had to close the bar, which got him home by 3, and he just stayed up drinking beer and packing, too wound up about our little trip. But he was in good spirits, all of us were, and we joked and laughed the whole time. So far, the trip was off to an amazing start.

Then...something went kaplooie.

About 30 miles south of Phoenix, in a little town called Maricopa, traffic started to get bad. This is pretty typical of Phoenix on a Friday afternoon, but, the thing is, we were still pretty far from the city limit. So what gives? Why were we at a crawl on the highway?

Thing is, at least a crawl was movement. That slow stop and go just turned into a stop.

Here's the thing: We were in the middle of the desert. Like nowheres-ville. It was about 108 degrees and we were on a two lane highway stuck between a massive congestion of cars and trucks. It was blistering and very claustrophobic. The heat was searing down on us and we were on a chugging parking lot in the middle of BF Arizona, at a complete and utter standstill.

“I'm so sorry guys,” She-Ra said mournfully. “If I hadn't slept so long this never would have...”

“Would you stop?” I insisted, as did Tim. “No one could have seen this happen. Let's just relax and try and get through it.”

2pm turned to 3pm. The traffic would move, oh so slightly, now and then, so we had to keep the engine running. Our gas was maybe around a quarter full. If we didn't get out of this mess, we'd be on empty and stuck on the I-10 for good.

“I'm gonna have a smoke and check things out.” Tim then opened the back seat door and got out. He walked along the left shoulder of the highway, heading up to see if he could find out what is causing this mess.

Then, suddenly, we started to move. After an hour of being literally parked on the highway, a break came. A good distance between the cars in front of us and we were beginning to make some ground.

Thing is, Tim was still walking on the shoulder.

We got so far ahead of him that we, unfortunately, had to pull over and wait for him to catch up. Not so good for a guy who's been up all night and smokes. Plus it was crazy hot made hotter by the idling engines from vehicles big and bigger.

“You've got to be kidding me,” She-Ra said ironically laughing.

Soon enough, Tim caught up with us. He even had to stop once because his shoe fell off. Once he was safe and heaving back in the car, we edged our way back onto the highway and...stayed there. It was at a stand still once again.

3pm turned to 4pm. A woman next to us was crying. Some kid got out of a car and puked. People were walking around on the pavement like it was a sidewalk. Some guy even had a magazine out and had his chair leaned back. Yes, it was that long and maddening.

“Let's look on the bright side,” I suggested. “Even if we don't get out of here by 5 we can still make it to Flagstaff by 7. That's when the doors open. We grab some food and drinks and can still be inside the theater by 9. So...we're okay!”

The gas light indicated that we were not so okay.

Tim got out once more to investigate, calling and texting all sorts of people he knew up in Phoenix. Then, I got an idea. I grabbed She-Ra's phone and called my dad, knowing that he'd probably, most likely, be at the computer.

He was. (thanks dad!)

I told him where we were and what was going on and asked if he could just Google things like “Traffic jam. I-10. Phoenix. Westbound. Parking lot.” and things like that. I mean, there were media helicopters circling an area up ahead. There has to be something on the web!

“Okay. I think I found something,” he said. “Looks like a truck, a semi, got into an accident and they closed the highway down to one lane.”

Oh man, I thought. We're going to be here a while.

Then, oddly enough, just as Tim returned to the car, traffic started moving again.

“We're starting to move here dad,” I said. “I'll call you back. And thanks!”

Lo and behold, we were moving at a decent clip. We even got up to 60mph. Was...was it over? Were we out of the dead halt gridlock? Let's hope so.

Up ahead we saw quite the sight. It looked as if a few trucks, not just one, was involved. One of which was in the grassy right shoulder ditch and appeared to have had exploded. It was quite the grizzly scene.

“Oh man!” I shouted. “My camera!”

I always keep a small digital camera on me just in case something like this happens. I retrieved it from my right shorts pocket, turned it on and... We drove right past the charred and gutted 18 wheeler and the dense pile up surrounding it. I had missed the shot that would explain the agony of that traffic jam for this here blog.

At that very moment, Def Leppard's “Photograph” came on the radio. We all had to laugh about it and I shook my fist at the heavens, in both spite and admiration.

http://ktar.com/category/local-news-articles/20101001/Truck-fire-closes-westbound-I~10-near-Maricopa/
(cut and paste this so you can see and read about the severity of that traffic jam...sorry, this blogspot doesn't do links)

The rest of the drive was rather uneventful, and we totally welcomed that. Our spirits were up once we hit that incline towards Flagstaff. The air was getting cooler and the sky a little darker. Pine trees could be seen (which is a rarity for Southern AZ folk but for a guy that grew up around them in Carmel and Pacific Grove, it was a sight for weary eyes) and once we hit the pinnacle of the hill, we began our decent down into the sprawling basin that would be our destination.

As we careened down the highway, the car started to do a curious action. The whole rig began to shake a bit. No, actually, it began to shake a LOT. It felt as if we were driving over a bumpy road, one with rolling ditches and curves. I thought nothing of it. They have roads like this back in California, I'm pretty sure on the LA Grapevine, to help with skidding out and tension on the brakes. Still, the whole front end felt as if it was gonna rattle apart.

Everything was cool. Vibratory, but cool. That is until I saw the expression on She-Ra's face. She looked quite tense and rather concerned.

“Are you okay?” I had to ask.

“Um...yeah,” she eventually muttered. “It's just that...well...”

I was immediately intrigued. “Well...what?”

After a terse pause while trying to steer down the sloping grade under the duress of the manic shaking, She-Ra finally said, “I just wish I had bought that part for the car that my mechanic said I should get.”

I'm sorry...huh? A part for the car your mechanic ADVISED you to get? You mean the front end is shaking like that because it's...COMING LOOSE? Are you kidding me right now?

“No, no...everything should be alright,” She-Ra stated, a bit unconvincing. “We'll...we'll be fine.”

Now, if you know me you know I can be quite the hypochondriac. Mind you, this was not a medical mishap, but it was the same thing rolling through my head. The only image I kept spinning through my brain was something out of an old cartoon or Keystone Cops film. Like the whole car just flying apart, wheels shooting off in every direction, and the body just collapsing on the pavement and us skidding to a grinding halt down at the base of the winding highway. After spending most of the afternoon parked on the I-10, the last thing I wanted was the car to go to pieces and us soar off of the hill and down into the valley below. And let me tell you, that was quite a perilous drop.

So, to say the least, I was tense once again.

All that tension went away once we actually hit the straightaway into Flagstaff. We rolled the windows down and let the cool 60mph air hit our faces. There was a controlled burn going on up ahead and the valley was engulfed in an inviting piney campfire smell, one that totally reminded me of my hometown. We all breathed a little easier. Everything was going to be alright.

By 7pm, just 3 hours behind schedule, we hit the city limits. Flagstaff itself is a rather small town. Our motel was just a block away from the venue, which was located downtown, and the downtown area was really just a few blocks radius of shop, bars and restaurants. Again, I was totally reminded of Carmel and Pacific Grove. It was pretty cool.

A nice Indian man ran the front desk and the lobby smelled of fresh curry.

“Yep, this is where I stayed last time,” Tim said looking and smelling around. “There's no denying that curry scent. Now I'm hungry.”

We checked in with no problem (thank you Jeebus!) and went to our rooms. Tim was downstairs in a single smoking room and we were upstairs, rather hidden from sight, in a cozy room with a huge California King bed. The room, despite the cheap price, was actually quite nice. I was impressed.



Before we got settled in and changed for the evening, Tim came up and we had to have a beer. Luckily, when we stopped for gas, we picked up a 12 pack, a couple of tallies and some ice. So when we got to the motel, the beer was ice cold and that first long desperate chug from that PBR can tasted, not only like victory, but the lips of the angel of mercy.

Amen.



Tim then went down to his room to change and all She-Ra and I could muster was more beer and some dumb TV. We just needed a mind brake from the driving catastrophes that we were just witness and a part of.

“I can't believe we made it here in one piece,” I said.

“And right on time,” She-Ra added.

“I know. I am so ready to see High On Fire. I have some serious headbanging to do. I think we've all earned a night of going nuts.”

After a while Tim joined us back in our room. We all had one more beer before heading out. When we got outside I was happy to find that the weather was cool enough for me to wear my hoodie. Ah, I missed you ol' buddy. It felt good to have that cozy brushed cotton from my Thrasher hoodie on my arms once again.

When we rounded the corner to head towards downtown, we saw that the Orpheum Theater was in fact right there, just a half a block from our motel. The lights were on, the marquee was lit (and my heart skipped a beat when I saw 'Tonight: HIGH ON FIRE') so I figured why not grab our tickets now, just to have them, before finding a place to grab some food.



Then, when we walked up to the ticket window, this is what we saw:



That's right. Canceled. The fxxking show we drove 300 miles to see, endured a two hour traffic jam, almost broke the car coming into town and preparing for at least a month has been canceled. You have got to be freaking kidding me!

I was stunned. Both She-Ra and and Tim were shocked as well, but laughing in spite of it. I mean, they just had to. For me, I went through a slew of emotional options. Should I be enraged and just lash out? No, that's lame. Should I sit on the sidewalk and weep? Um, nope...that's out. What about fuzing my brain cells and stand there in a comatose shock and later be wheeled away in a straight jacket? Hmm, that could work, but...no. So, with my mouth slightly agape, I walked up to the window, silently handed the ticket guy my confirmation code to which he immediately credited back the fifty some odd dollars to my credit card.

“But...but why?” I finally sputtered.

“Their bus broke down about 100 miles from here,” he said through that opening in the plexi-glass window. “Just outside of Winslow.”

“We just drove from there ourselves!” screeched a rather normal looking woman who was standing next to a quite average looking guy. Were these two middle aged parents here to see High On Fire? Awesome. “We could have picked them up!”

Then, amongst other folks being let down and She-Ra and Tim saying how sorry they were about everything to me...something snapped. In spite of all the trauma, I suddenly came to.

“You know what?” I beamed. “Screw it! We're here, it's a beautiful night out, our motel is a block away. Let's set this town on fire!”

With that, the team all roared in approval and we set off for the first decent looking bar that served food.

We found this Irish pub with outdoor seating, so we saddled up and ordered a round from our very young and rather blonde server. The drinks came out pretty fast and when we ordered our food we figured it would be speedy as well.

“So I got the address of that place the opening bands are playing,” Tim said. “Let's go check that out after we eat.”

On the door of the Orpheum, there was a hand written and drawn “flyer” for the two opening bands, Torche and Kylesa, who obviously made it to Flagstaff without incident, who were kind enough to play a smaller venue. Torche is pretty good, but I loved Kylesa. So I was stoked that they were still playing. Even if I get a little bit of headbanging in and some thudding heaviness into my ears I'd be fine.

After about a half hour, our hot wings haven't even arrived.

“It takes like 5 minutes to cook those things,” mentioned She-Ra. “What the hell?”

It was then that the blonde server came out and had an apologetic look on her face.

“Guys, I'm sorry,” she began. “The kitchen lost your ticket. So, they're on it now but...sorry for the inconvenience.”

We just started laughing, even as she didn't get it and continued with her “sorrys”.

“Baby, you don't even know,” I said. “This just fits in perfectly with the day. Of course they lost our ticket! It just had to be.”

When she went inside looking confused, She-Ra immediately sprung up from her seat and went inside. Tim and I thought she was going to cause havoc on the wait and management staff. She can do that at times seeing as she, and we as well, were all restaurant industry. When she returned, her hands were loaded with big shot glasses filled with dark elixir.

“So, I told the bartender our story and, yeah... These are on the house.”

We downed those mofos like it was our job. Ordered another round. Our food came out promptly and we stuffed our faces. Afterward, a bit buzzing and full (She-Ra ordered the sausage plate while Tim and I had cheese steaks, which were quite lovely thanks) we decided to head out and try and find this new venue where the two opening bands were playing.

Tim knew Flagstaff pretty well so we were following him. We walked down a few blocks, turned left and went under a bridge, turned right and soon we were in a residential neighborhood.



“Flagstaff is kind of a hippie town,” I said. To me, the hamlet reeked of small town Northern California lazy. There were lots of bedraggled kids walking dogs, lanky guys in ironic hats playing guitars on street corners, old guys balding with ponytails brandishing tie-dye shirts meandered the byways and the houses looked like the seaport creaks occupied by ex surfers and pottery artists. It was nice, but...I had been there/done that too many times. I like Tucson. We repped the dirty dirty like no ones bizz-nezz. Our city is rough and weird and it's toughened me up something fierce, a rough necessity that I desperately needed. If I lived in Flagstaff I'd just go back to my NorCal shuffle and be calmly “okay” with it all. In Tucson, you have to fight. And I totally love that!

Eventually we found the “venue”, or at least the address the flyer said the bands would be playing. We heard some sludge metal but...is this somebody's home? Are Torche and Kylesa playing a house party? Are you kidding me?

So we walked up the pathway to find a decent amount of people standing about, smoking, chatting and holding red cups in their hands. Okay, well, if they serve beer than I'm fine with those guys jamming a house party. But after that long walk, I, along with She-Ra and Tim, desperately needed a drink.

When I opened the front door, we were immediately hit with the stench of dense sweaty dudes and the heat that billowed off of them. The place was packed and the strains of Torche-heaviness emanated from, what looked like, the kitchen. It was loud and gross and She-Ra had nothing to do with it. She immediately turned around and told us she'd meet us later.



I mean, Kylesa had their merch set up on the living room couch. And trying to maneuver around the place was almost an impossibility. I mean, I really wanted to hear some metal but not so much under this kind of swampy duress.



So I asked the guy at the Kylesa merch “stand” where the beer was.

“Huh?” he said. “Oh they're not serving beer. I don't think.”

No beer? Hmm.

“Goodbye!” I cried. With that, Tim and I quickly turned our heels, lit out for the cool air and sweet smells of the outside to find She-Ra sitting on the rocky wall fence.

“Let's get out of here,” I said. “the first bar we see, we're there!”

So back to walking we went. Back under the bridge and back onto the main street where we found some dopey looking joint called Granny's Closet.



We walked inside and were amused to find that it was karaoke night. Some thick girl in a sweater jacket was belting out Led Zeppelin's “Stairway to Heaven”. Whatever. We ordered a well needed round of drinks, sucked them down and continued on our journey.



The next place we hit was a local brewhouse that also featured about a hundred different Scotchs. They had a featured Scotch and Tim and I just had to try it. It was almost like drinking Mescal it was so light and peety. Our heady buzz was coming back but we pillaged on in search of further damage.



Luckily, Tim knew of a speakeasy piano bar that served Absinthe. That was EXACTLY what I needed. At this rate, I just wanted to get out of my head and have some major fun. Which I was. So we turned down a side street to find the slightly hidden Absinthe bar.



The place was awesome. It was dark, sparsely populated and had that polished yet organic look of a real bar. So we bellied up to the bar and ordered our Absinthe.



There was a guy playing an upright piano behind us and against the wall. I grabbed a $5 bill and walked up to him. I told him our tale and dropped the bill into his large brandy snifter.

“Look,” I said, almost pleading. “If you could play any Vince Guaraldi from 'Charlie Brown Christmas', that would be the best thing ever.”

Thankfully the piano guy, a sort of twitchy middle aged dude in thick glasses, loved Guaraldi and said that he would after his cigarette break. So I sat down, sipped my ethereal drink and began to relax.

“You know guys,” I said. “I'm actually glad High On Fire canceled. I think this night had to happen. I'm having a great time and cheers to the strangest day ever!”

With that we clinked our glasses filled with the greenish hued potion and drank. Thats when piano guy returned and sat down at his paycheck.

The first thing I heard when he began playing was that infamous lick of “Linus and Lucy” which is probably the most recognizable riff from Guaraldi.



He then broke into 'Skating' which just sent me over the moon. I mean, what piano player plays frikkin' 'Skating' from “A Charlie Brown Christmas”? This was the best thing I've heard, and have been a part of, in a long time.



Then the nail hit the coffin. The piano guy broke into “Christmastime Is Here” and for my “Arrested Development” fans out there (the brilliant and short lived TV show, not the rootsy hip hop band) is the 'sad walking away' George Michael music.



That was it. After the long and arduous day, the set backs, the let down but at the same time the amazing togetherness we were all having, I found myself tearing up and wiping my eyes at the bar. I couldn't help it. Everything at that moment, the day, my friend, my She-Ra, the Absinthe and now music from my favorite holiday special, just took hold. Tim totally understood and She-Ra put her arms around me. I wasn't weeping uncontrollably, just gentle tears of appreciation and childhood memories. Don't tell me you haven't teared up at your local Absinthe bar when the piano guy starts playing the tunes from “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. Because I know you have...



After that emotional take, it was good to get back outside into the increasingly (or is it “de”creasingly) colder air. A nice jaunt around the few blocks of downtown, which was beginning to fill up with kids of all shapes and ages, was well needed. But so was another drink. Most likely our last one.

We wound up at a place called the Monte Cristo and headed upstairs to the bar area. It was actually a pretty neat little saloon, with a big old timey mirror liquor shelf behind the large decorative oak bar. We all grabbed drinks and headed outside to the balcony patio.



It was here that I knew the day was coming to a close for me. I was lit up pretty well, spent beyond belief and took in the view with deep breaths and a wide smile.

“Thanks guys,” I said to She-Ra and Tim. “This has been one of the funniest and most interesting days I can recall. And I'm glad I did it with you two.”

We then clinked our glasses or...cans or...whatever (I kind of can't remember what we ordered) and had one last hurrah before turning in.



Back at the motel, She-Ra stayed up and watched “Sin City” to which I so did not. The last thing I remember seeing before the lids came slamming down, was Mickey Rourke's misshapen and bandaged face talking tough about something. I slept too hard to dream.

The next day, after showering, packing up, cleaning and checking out, the three of us hit an all you can eat Mandarin Chinese buffet. Actually, Tim insisted on it. I kind of wanted an omelet or a cheeseburger and She-Ra wasn't really in the mood to eat just yet because it was so early.

It was 11am.

We were the first to arrive so the food was fresh and piled high. I loaded up on some basics like grilled chicken and a salad and avoided what looked like “bloody bananas”.



I even had to try their pizza because, well, I really didn't know Chinese cuisine included pizza. After that first and only bite, I know knew that it didn't.



As the food soaked up the previous night's antics and abuse, we all waddled back to the car and tried to decide what to do next.

“Well, we're here,” I suggested, “so maybe a stroll around another part of town? I don't know...”

“I have an idea,” said She-Ra as she turned the ignition on. We then drove into a gas station, filled the car up, grabbed some bottles of water and drove off.

“Where are we going?” I had to ask. She-Ra just held a naughty grin and said nothing.

“Are you trying to tell me that we're going home?”

My question was met with a slight nod and that sent me into a wild laughing fit. I mean, at that point, it felt as if all we did was drive 300 miles to get drunk. We had been in Flagstaff for just over 16 hours, after sitting in mind numbing traffic, thinking the car was going to collapse and having our concert canceled. Amazing, I thought. Through my laughter, I just had to admit that this was the best road trip ever.

The drive back was anything but eventful. Smooth sailing all the way. Tim slept most of the trip as he was stretched out, using my cooler as a pillow, in the back. She-Ra and I said maybe a dozen words the whole journey back. We basically let NPR do all of the talking. We really had nothing to say at that point and for at least 4 hours. Words just failed to come as the day before did all of the talking.

Then, just as we hit the limits to our fair and ferocious city, we drove right into a huge storm. Heavy rain fell, winds were rocking the Impala and tumbleweeds the size of Yugos were rolling across the freeway. It was quite a spectacle and we were all glad that fall had finally arrived to our endless summer soaked Tucson. Even if it did almost push us off the road once or twice.





After we dropped Tim off, who staggered back to his apartment, we went home to a very anxious dog. As She-Ra took him for a long and well needed walk, I unpacked and put things away. When she returned, we both looked at one another with “well, what now?” eyes.

“You wanna hit Nancy's?”

Nancy's Fort Lowell Pub is our local dive bar, just a few blocks away and basically our home away from home. I was spent, hungover, whirling and just wanted to relax.

“Yes,” was my answer. So we went down to the pub, had a couple of drinks, told our tale to the bartender and a few regulars then headed home. After some dinner and another cocktail, that was it for me. I was out by 9:30pm and She-Ra followed (which was great because we both had to be at work by 8:30am since the restaurant opens at 10 because of football on Sundays). Somewhere in my dreamspace I'm sure I was in some happy bunny picnic, rollicking and frolicking with all my friends as High On Fire played live on the stage next to our picnic.

In essence, that day, October 1st 2010, will live on in memory. If High On Fire would have not canceled, the day would have gone a bit too smooth. Sure the traffic jam and the car problems was one thing, but to have the main component of your journey just not be there? Now that is something to giggle about and treasure forever. It was a day that should not have been but I'm sure glad it was.

Oh, and the radio must have played Katy Perry's “California Gurls” at least a dozen times as we were driving.

Sorry about that Tim...



The End.