It’s pronounced Tem-PEE (Phoenix adventure Part 3)

Let’s get back to the adventures. Since I flew into Phoenix so early, I was able to have brunch, see a movie, get some sun, and plan my night out in Tempe. I think the University-crowd bars were a little more my “scene.”

Majority of the fun bars are on/around Mill Street. First to cross off the list was The Tavern — reminiscient of a Blind Pig, but with an outdoor patio. I make eye contact with some tall dude with a Georgia Tech hat who eventually comes over to chat when my friend introduces me as “She-thinks-you’re-hot!” After having a couple drinks/shots, the guys of the group wanted to go to some Owl-named place (read: some random pool hall), so we jumped in a car… then we jumped out 2 blocks down. We wanted to stay on this corner. Crossing back through the alley, we meet up with Ian, the back-door bouncer from The Tavern. We exchange numbers to look forward to a fun afterhours when the clubs shut down at 2am. He promises breakfast. Then we look to our next hang, Margarita Rocks — just your typical Beach Club-esque club on speed. Oh, and with a patio. There’s a line (“We don’t do lines — even in Phoenix!”) Ian tells us to ask for RJ at the door. RJ lets us jump right in. I feel like I should be 22 and a Senior in college again — and I’m sure we were probably acting the part seamlessly. I sell myself to the cutie bartender, we consider getting tattoos and then I hear Melinda to the DJ Booth. (Fast forward: wrong Melinda). I get a free Bacardi hat, a sticker promoting smilygreen.com clothing company, and some great photos.

We party at Margarita Rocks until closing time. I’ve never seen cops in such fast action to get people off the streets: cops on foot, cops on bicycles, cops on horses. Crazy. We attempted to have photos taken with the Mounties, but the chick-cop yelled for us to get back on the sidewalk. Onto the quest for food…

One-by-one the burger joints and breakfast places shut down while we’re high-tailing it down Mill Street. While walking back towards the lonely sub shop still with lights on, I hear two guys remarking about “Solon.” Yeah, that Solon. I approach them with my Ohio ID in hand (which still has my Solon address — yeah yeah, I’ll change it when it expires next month). They/I could not believe it. These two guys haven’t seen each other since high school and they bump into each other on a street in Arizona. I’m just minding my same business walking down the street and bump into two people from Solon.

I invite Nick for subs. I get something called a Tombstone. Nothing like your Panini’s sandwich! Fresh. Wraps. Mine was something turkey/cheese/sprouts/mayo. Yum.

We miss afterhours since Ian doesn’t leave work until some unGodly hour like 5am. Between said 5am message and closing time of the bars, I send out multiple ridiculous text messages. All of which made me sound mildly retarded — and I’m sure well-appreciated with the three-hour time difference.

Best response: We are in Florida after I send a blunt PHOENIX! Like what… You should be here, Phoenix? Or, Are you in Phoenix, Phoenix?

Or, I’m so excited it’s Phoenix, Phoenix?

I warned you.

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