Tucson Savings

My offices were in Phoenix but the airlines were demanding some fairly ridiculous air fares to get between Dallas and the capital of Arizona. Someone in their pricing departments still seem to think that they can try for and get over $1100 for a roundtrip ticket on a flight segment of less than 1,000 miles. Not from me, certainly. Yes, my employer is footing the bill but gone also are the days of taking whatever ticket the corporate travel planner came up with. We each are responsible for planning our own itineraries and with that comes the expectation to be as frugal as possible with the company’s money.

I booked a ticket to Tucson. I was going to be in Arizona for a week so the hotel and car rates weren’t going to change because I chose an alternate way there and back. Yea, I’d pick up at least one extra tank of gas but that would be small potatoes compared to the almost 50% savings I got in the airfare. Moreover, since I’m fairly junior in the ranks of management I know better than to think it is imperative at any cost that I arrive nonstop at my destination. The explorer in me has no problem at all tooling around places I haven’t been before or at least in a good long while and seeing what there is to see so long as I’m on time for work come Monday morning.

The one previous trip to Tucson was over 30 year prior during the Summer of my junior year in high school. One of my 9th grade classmates had moved with his family to Sierra Vista, about an hour and a half south and close to the Mexican border. I was visiting for my 16th birthday from my parents and looked forward to my first visit to the State of Arizona. We toured Old Tucson, the Hollywood film set west of town where exterior shots were filmed for any number of movies as well as the popular television western “Gunsmoke.” We toured Tombstone, site of the famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral and also the Desert Museum zoological park.

As a teenager I liked Old Tucson but didn’t see much point in returning as an adult by myself. I was disappointed with Tombstone all those years ago as it was highly commercialized even then and nowhere near to what I would have expected a desert ghost town to be. I knew better than to expect anything else this time around. There were some recently discovered cave complexes east of town but caving was never really a strong interest of mine, especially given the prices they were charging for admission so all of this left me standing at the often ignored tourist kiosk thumbing through high gloss brochures for all manner of ways to spend my time and money in the Greater Tucson area.

I had a day and a half before I needed to be in Phoenix and the entire Sonora Desert to figure out what to see to capture the essence of post card Arizona.

Gotta go.

I Need Ice!!

"Yu vant dat mit eis?" the German flight attendant asked politely as she and her comrades wheeled their overflowing and rickety drink carts down the left-side aisle. I was in an aisle seat heading back to the United States from a vacation in the Middle East by way of the Lufthansa fortress hub at Frankfurt. Lufthansa is a solid airline, one of the premier carriers in the world not so much for its level of service but more for its attention to detail and its legendary cultural compulsion towards operating on time. As the saying goes, you can set your watch by the German train system and use that to hop a flight on Lufthansa just about anywhere the sun shines. Unfortunately, German culture along with the rest of Europe in general foregoes one thing most Americans like me can't live without - ice.

After ordering my Coke which, again per German preference, came with a spritz of lemon fizz, the flight attendant served an eight ounce tumbler of the sparkling beverage with, count'em, two small cubes of ice. I mean these were the kind of cubes we Yankees automatically write off the minute they hit the drink simply to begin cooling our favorite libation. Sure enough these two pitiful things began circling in tighter circles in the center of the cup and getting smaller with each rotation. I couldn't tap her on the shoulder to ask for more; true to her training and upbringing she was already three rows back and heading to the galley almost as fast as the 747 was roaring to Chicago.

I've often engaged in conversations with friends and acquaintances from several countries around Europe and the result is predictably the same. Europeans prefer all beverages except coffee and tea at room temperature. It is the natural way in which water comes, the only way to drink beer or whiskey and chilled at best for vodka and white wines but nothing ever comes "on the rocks." The Germans and other peoples around the Alps like their milk and cream as close to factory fresh as it can get which quite often means warm from the cow or at least warmed up on the stove or steamed before hitting the table. Besides, goes the final argument, the ice takes up too much room in the glass for all the money paid to enjoy the drink in the first place.

"Y'all don't live in the desert!" goes one of my counter-arguments. Neither do most Americans but the heat of the southern United States virtually requires drinks to be as close to freezing as possible while maintaining liquidity. Who wants to drink "room temperature" water when the outside temperature and humidity can bring that water seemingly close to boiling? If the dry heat of the Southwest comes in to it along with triple-digit temperatures, if we could drink a solid block of ice we would!

The bottom line is each side views ice according to custom. When in Europe I've had table or bottled water served as is and thought nothing of it. Bottled water is cheap and tap water is free where any other drink in Europe can easily can set you back almost a solid day's pay. Besides, even grown men like me love the memories that come with warm milk in the morning - once you get past wondering if the milk was left out all night.

Not too long ago I remember a conversation with a lady who shared my passion for Coca-Cola. We traded tips on the best way to serve the fizzy confection. Hers was a bit more ritualistic than mine, requiring the placement of three cubes of ice precisely, no more no less, with the soda poured over that slowly. Mine isn't as elaborate but it left her and all the Europeans I've ever met thunderstruck just the same.

I prefer the inflight service on foreign flag carriers like Lufthansa, Qantas and Emirates but I know that, if nothing else, I can get ice on United and American. Fill that cup/glass/whatever to the absolute rim with ice, preferably crushed, and pour!

Gotta go!

One Man's Heaven

When a friend comes in to town for business you always try to hook up over dinner. Oftentimes it is the only time you have a chance to visit and catch up as any number of meetings, conference calls and deadlines can and do get in the way during the course of the business day. Even though it was a noticeable distance from the house when the firm is picking up the tab for a chance to reconnect the time and gas are the least I can do. This time, however, was unlike none I have ever experienced before. We went to a brand new eatery and fun/hen house by the name of "Redneck Heaven."

I'm explaining to my suddenly very concerned father on the phone while waiting for my friend to show up that it is not 30 miles from the nearest paved road surrounded by livestock and open fields with strange burn marks in the soil. Along the lines of "Hooters," "Twin Peaks," and "Bone Daddy's," "Redneck Heaven" is a variation on a tried and true theme - breasts (not always chicken), beer and burgers served up by barely legal beauties only this time instead of wearing orange they're in bikini halters and "Daisy Duke" shorts. The only thing not in line with the full costume were the flat boots each wore instead of the spiked heels their namesake inspiration ran through the countryside in on the "Dukes of Hazzard." The roof of the General Lee, Confederate flag and all, hangs from one of the walls while the famous "Dixie" horn sounds anytime anything cheeky happens. The one and only establishment as of this writing sits right next to the Vista Ridge Mall in Lewisville alongside heavily traveled Interstate I-35 just north of Dallas.

"Not too popular with the brothas?" was the first question I got upon returning to work the next day to tell my office mates all about it. I was in fact the only customer of color in the place but there were two "sistas" helping with the serving and causing their fair share of mayhem with the men folk one would most definitely expect to find in a place with a name like that. My buddy, in from South Carolina, don'tcha know, practically squealed with delight when he came in, rubbing his hands together and hunching his shoulders like the proverbial kid with the cookie jar.

As he took his seat our "Daisy" plopped in to the seat between us as if it was the most perfectly normal thing to do. Apparently it was because the table next to ours had no open seat so their "Daisy" simply sat in one of the highly appreciative men's laps and took their orders without missing a second thought. The food was standard fare with one exception. I was convinced by our "Daisy" to try the "Mississippi Mud Burger," an open faced half-pounder cooked to order on a slice of thick, buttered Texas Toast and drenched in onions and brown gravy.

Oh my. Frivolous flesh was never my thing but I'd go back for that burger on a regular basis! Good thing I don't drink, either, because one classic sleeveless bubba in the back downed the house special without breaking a sweat. The "Minnow Shot" is a shot of liquor with a live minnow in the glass. He chewed the hapless herring b-e-f-o-r-e downing the booze that would have otherwise put the flapper out of its misery. Shrieks of delight from the "Daisy Chain" while the horn blared "Dixie" for one and all to cheer the cable guy on.

All this on a Monday night during the football game. Friday they plan to have a "She-Devil/Angel" costume party. Our "Daisy" didn't know which to choose so I gave her an idea to think about: red boots, black "Daisy Dukes," a tail and topped with angel wings and a halo. Best of both worlds.

Gotta go.