Ronnie's Cafe on Cactus and 43rd Ave felt like South Carolina the first few times I went there for breakfast, but the food reminded me so much of my father's cooking that I continued to patronize the establishment until the waitresses got to know my name. There's Sandra, a lovely dark haired, golden skinned lady who always has a smile and a soft, polite greeting for everyone who comes in. There's Kim, her pale, Amazonian opposite. Kim is loud and gruff. It's unusual for her to say more than a few words without complaining, but her big heart shines through. Those are the only two names that stuck, but each of the ladies who work there is sweet and kind and they've all made me feel welcome. The older woman who runs the register reminds me of the golden girls with her hairstyle and the way she dresses. She beams with pride when she talks about her family.
Two regular customers that I got to know pretty well, Steve the Perv and Alan the Brit, are both retired. Alan works at the local Walgreens, but I think maybe he doesn't actually need to. He has a heavy British accent and loves to sing karaoke - karaoke is kind of a big deal around here. Steve is a foul-mouthed class clown type who frequently gets kicked out for harassing someone or being too inappropriate, but he eventually is forgiven and allowed to reenter. So many personalities. All very nice people. Without them, I would've written off this whole damn town as the devil's den. It was difficult to find a genuine friendly face. I still get stares from other patrons sometimes when I go to Ronnie's, but I have never been openly disrespected there, unlike other places.
There's a line that's crossed between rudeness and discrimination. When it happens, my irritation turns to recognition and then sadness. Once a person has decided to hate you for something that you cannot control, it doesn't matter what kind of person you are, how hard a day you're having or how much effort it is taking you to hold yourself together. They're not going to extend you any kindness. They curl their lips up so the polite words shoot out of their mouths like poison-tipped arrows, and their eyes burn right through you. It makes a person just stop going out.
A friend came to visit, and we went out to a place that was featured on DD&D. After our meal ended, a young man came in looking for seats for himself and his parents. There were two on each side of us at the diner counter built into an airstream trailer. He went back outside and a few second later his father came in. The father looks around and then says to us, "Would you mind moving to the back of the bus?"
My friend, who is clearly appalled, asks, "Why did you say it that way? Do you realize what you said?"
. "Yes, I know what I said."
My friend was becoming more distressed every second, but I put my hand on his arm and mumbled, "Leave it alone. He doesn't get it."
In the car, he asked me if I have to put up with that all the time, and I told him, "This isn't California. It may not be that far physically, but it's a completely different world."
A lot of things that "progressives" consider uncivilized happen here. I think the proximity to California and Mexico makes Arizona traditionalists more outspoken and demonstrative with their ignorance. I don't encounter many of them while driving for Uber, though. I think maybe they don't believe in using a smartphone to pay for a ride or maybe they believe that a drunk person should be able to drive themselves home -there is a startlingly high number of DUIs here. In fact, there are so many car accidents caused by people just being stupid or inconsiderate. I drive seven days a week, so I see them all the time. Everybody tries to beat the light and everybody wants to be the first one into the intersection on the green. Idiocy.
Just outside Phoenix, out in the desert, they drag race every weekend. You can literally race anything with a motor. During the summer, there are so many people who gather for the competitions that the instructors warn new students not to ride their bikes out there because the races are wild, dangerous and unorganized. I haven't gone. I feel too old and much too Black to be in that crowd. It's really weird to always feel "really really Black". I don't think I'll ever get used to it because there's a part of me deep inside that believes I shouldn't have to, and I am absolutely certain that it is right.
There's a large population of Africanized Honey Bees in Arizona. They're starting to scout more now that the weather is warming up again. They are very aggressive. You don't need to do anything to these bees to get chased. It is common to see a report on the news about someone attacked by a swarm of bees during the summer. That seems like a really awful way to die. If the bees don't kill you, the heat might. Bees and extreme heat - I must really have wanted the education to have tolerated that madness. I was prepared to do it for at least another year! Racists, killer bees and hot as hell, Phoenix, Arizona.
I'll miss free parking, no toll booths, $2 gallons of gas, quiet nights (even on weekends), crazy intense thunderstorms, 80mph cruising on the highway practically any time of the day, 15-foot ceilings, coming home to a clean and organized apartment and EVERYTHING MOTORCYCLE - the instructors, the curriculum, my classmates, holding the tools in my hand and even repeatedly banging the shit out of my shin on a dirt bike foot peg. I miss Venus. I still have heartache about parting with her, and it's intensified by the knowledge that I gave her up for something that I still haven't completed. She was my beautiful dream. I often wish I could go back and undo that sacrifice, but perhaps there is a reason for all of it. I just wish I knew what that reason is.
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