As it happened, this year's slate of my hotel stays would begin in Phoenix, at the Super 8 on Van Buren just east of downtown.
Phoenix is not a city that I know well. During my month-long sojourn in Arizona last spring, I went all over the state, but I had driven through Phoenix without even stopping. This visit was an opportunity to acquaint myself with the feeling of a city that I had skipped entirely in the past.
My hosts---Heather and her fiance had dropped me off there yesterday, just before leaving Red at the airport for her flight back to Portland.
My extra day in Phoenix was the product of a mix-up between yours truly and Red concerning the date of her return flight. My hosts offered to let me stay an extra night in Scottsdale, but as the reservation was non-refundable, I chose to follow my original plan. Also, as I pointed out to Red, it give me a chance to get a jump on the week's work without inconveniencing my hosts.
The Super 8 on Van Buren had good reviews on Booking.com, and it seemed the obvious choice, given that five of the nine hotels where I stayed last spring in Arizona were Super 8 franchises. Also it was near the airport.
Heather, as it turns out, shares my appreciation for the Super 8 chain. She couldn't think of any reason she'd want to pay for a more expensive room.
"But it's not as cheap since Wyndham took over," she lamented.
I attempted to make a pitch for the benefits of Motel 6 among my hosts, but found only a little success.
This particular Super 8 lived up to its comments on line. It was clean and tidy, and indeed it was close to downtown Phoenix. This fact must be qualified by the observation that downtown Phoenix is not only rather devoid of activity in the evening, but it also drops off quickly into a desolation of parking lots and lower income residences. My hotel seemed on the very frontier of where the recent condo developments had reached along Van Buren.
Last night I used this opportunity to stroll into downtown along the quiet dark street, past the satellite campuses of both U of A and ASU, and then to give myself a tour of the helical palm tree Christmas lights in the Arizona Center shops, an outdoor mall on the northeast edge of the clump of downtown skyscrapers.
That was darn near the only thing going on in downtown that evening, outside of the open air skating rink, where I killed ten minutes watching folks clumsily circle on the ice to the same late Seventies song that were the staple of skating rinks three decades ago.
As anyone knows who reads my blog, Arizona for me is all about winter sports.
No comments:
Post a Comment