And so it was with my trip from San Diego to Phoenix, Arizona. I had ruled out hitchhiking out along the I-8 after some advice from locals who know the score. To do that would be to head out into serious desert country, with daytime temperatures in September still hitting 110 Fahrenheit (over 40 celcius). There are loooooong distances between towns and not a whole lotta traffic either. Chances of getting picked up? Slim to marginal.
Okay then. A 9-hour overnighter on Greyhound should be easy enough. God knows I’ve done this plenty of times before, and for much longer time frames. Well, truth be told, I had a very, very restless sleep on this trip. I had a window seat, and therefore no legroom, and the bus was 99% full so couldn’t move to an aisle seat and stretch out. The air-con seemed to only work intermittently. I drifted in and out of travel sleep – the kind of sleep you get which is more of a semi-conscious doze, and I always seem to have very weird half-dreams, almost psychedelic sometimes.
When I did wake properly, it was the heat of the sun rising that did it. And glancing out of the window, I was almost glad I had a window seat, coz watching the sun show its first peek over the horizon, a deep orange glowing ball, and slowly rise up over the barren red earth desert that we were driving thru was just spectacular. This was the same sun that barely 12 hours ago I watched dip into the Pacific Ocean, and now I’m watching it rise out of the desert sands.
Arriving in Phoenix, somewhat behind schedule, I was incredibly strung out, tired, sweaty, and smelly, badly in need of a shower, coffee, and food. It was barely 7am and it was already roasting hot – I’m sure it was already close to 30 degrees (80-ish F). I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I was due to meet and stay with Bryan and Christine, a couple who I met in Dingle, Ireland while they were on honeymoon and I was on my last Irish hurrah. This was December 2004. We had hung out for a coupla days, and then I invited them to my leaving do, at which they duly showed up. We’ve been in semi-regular email touch ever since. But today, Bryan was working until around 2pm, and couldn’t meet or pick me up 'til then. And they lived in Anthem, a suburb a good 35miles north of the City. I needed to figure out what to do for the next 7 hours.
I spent about an hour of that wandering aimlessly around the bus station. There were no shower-hire facilities, the luggage storage compartments were out of order, and the information centre wasn’t yet opened. At least I could get coffee. And while changing into shorts and Tee, fumbling absent-mindedly thru my rucksack, I found a ½ empty pack of cigarettes – must have been from the Aussie Rules night…I vaguely remember getting hammered-drunk and buying a pack, which I do from time to time. I only smoke when I’m very drunk, or, as was the case now, when I’m really strung-out.
So, with coffee and two cigarettes in my system, I feel almost human again, and am finally able to string two thoughts together. A quick read thru the Lonely Planet reveals the not-so-startling fact, that there ain’t a whole lot to do in the downtown Phoenix area. There are a couple of decent museums, but that’s about it. Anything else worth seeing needs a car to drive there, this being one of America’s most sprawling metropolises.
After negotiating to leave my rucksack in the freight office of the bus station (no way was I gonna lug it around the city on foot in 30+ degree heat for 7 hours), I found a local bus that would take me into town.
It’s 9am by this stage. Amazingly to me, for a city almost 3million people, the Downtown core was dead, absolutely dead. I’m talking zero traffic. Maybe its coz it’s Sunday? I don’t know. But I honestly felt like I was walking around a ghost town, or a post-apocalyptic city that had just suffered a nuclear strike. The only signs of life I saw were the homeless bums in the park on Washington Street. It felt very weird. To be wandering amongst modern, steel and glass skyscraper corporate buildings, and to be able to cross 4-lane roads without a single car in sight??? Very strange.
I also now realised I needed to check my email – I didn’t have Bryan’s number written in my book. I only had it on email. Without being able to contact him, there was no way for me to confirm I’d arrived, or a meeting point. And there was nothing open, and even if there was, there wasn’t even anything that looked like it might have an Internet terminal.
Looking at my LP guidebook again, I noticed a HI hostel way out on the edge of Downtown. Only 10 blocks away. I may as well check it out, i've got nothing better to do right now, and it may have a connection, or at least be able to point me in the right direction. Now, as you prolly, know, I’m a fairly adventurous person, willing to take a few risks here and there, but as I’m getting into the neighbourhood where the hostel, I’m feeling a little sketchy. It feels like I’m wandering into 'the Hood'. Bryan was to tell me later that I wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town. What the hell a HI hostel was located there for, I don’t know. Anyways, I get there – and it has a bit of a shanty-shack feel to it, and no, there’s no Internet connection, and no, there ain’t any around here.
I need another coffee. The city seems to be waking up slightly now, a few more people on the road, but still no one on foot…No one walks here, they all drive. I find a café that’s open. Miracle. The chick, very friendly actually, at the café says, “yeah, we’ve got Internet connection, you got a laptop??” “Um...no”. That’s another thing I’ve noticed a lot in the States recently. There is a dearth of Internet café’s, but every Starbucks, Blenz and two-bit independent coffee shops have WiFi. That does me no good tho, or any other budget backpacker around. What backpacker do you know that carries a laptop in their rucksack???
The café chick did mention that if I jumped on a bus for 20minutes I could find a FedEx-Kinko’s, which had an expensive per-minute Net café. And it was right by one of the Museums I was contemplating checking out. Man, all this freakin’ effort for a phone number!!!! I was having a very difficult morning.
Phone number duly found, and contact made with Bryan, I spent about ¾ of an hour in the, apparently, world famous Heard museum, before I realised I now had to get back to the bus station, way out on the other side of Downtown, to meet him. Waiting for a bus on a Sunday morning in Phoenix certainly is a true test of one’s patience. This is one of the most car-centric cities in the most car-centric country in the world. ½ a day here, and I’ve learnt that Public Transport is woeful. I found PT excellent in San Francisco, and serviceable even in Los Angeles, San Diego’s good, but here in Phoenix?...Man, pitiful. I took to walking between stops, just so as I felt like I was actually getting somewhere, and after 40minutes or so I was finally able to get one. But that only took me part of the way, when I had to change and wait for another. The morning trip into town was just as bad, too.
It’s now 1pm. Once again, I walked between stops, keeping a keen eye out so I didn’t miss one flying past me between stops. Back on the right side of Downtown now for the bus station, I wander past an enormous Baseball stadium. Phoenix Vs San Diego. This part of the city is now buzzing, and the traffic has come to life, cops directing people every which way, and drinks and ice-cream vendors out in force. Thank God for icy-cold water!! I had walked about ¾ of the way back out to the bus station, when I finally saw my bus number come up. Sheesh!
I seem to be whingeing a bit here, I know. Not sure if that’s just how the city affected me, or if it was my state-of-mind after a pretty ordinary bus trip. Nevertheless, when Bryan met me, it was a sigh of relief. Good to see the boy again, and there was a lot to catch up on in almost a year’s absence. With a 35mile drive ahead, we had a bit of time.
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