The Arizona Chronicles, Vol. 4, Day 1: Kidnapped

The stories you are about to read are true. . .well, mostly.  Not that I’d lie to you.  A lot of the stuff did happen and some of the others might not have happened, but are in there due to artistic license to give you a better story.  But I don’t want you to confuse the things that did happen with the things that did not happen.  So if you find yourself scratching your head and wondering which is which, just take a deep breath, relax, and remember it’s just a story. . .except for the parts that aren’t.

Arizona.  For some it conjures up pictures of sand and cacti.  For others, an escape from winter weather.  For me, Arizona always fills me with a certain sense of trepidation.  For those of you new to this blog, I refer you to the previous three volumes of these tales which I call The Arizona Chronicles to help you better understand the anxiety I feel whenever I visit this state.

Several years ago, through an unfortunate series of events, I had the dubious distinction of meeting Arizona Mat, an “explorer” whose fame may not be great, but his ego certainly is.  I also met Tall Square, his refrigerator shaped sidekick.  And by sidekick, I mean arch-nemesis as the two of them were constantly at each other’s throats.  Since I’ve met these two I’ve traveled to the top of Mount San Jacinto, helped track down a killer bent on Arizona Mat’s demise, and discovered the legendary Voodoo Blue (Woo woo!).  Oh, great!  Now I’m doing it.

Needless to say, whenever business brings me to Arizona, I always get a bit leery because, one way or another, Arizona Mat ALWAYS seems to find me and drag me into another series of misadventures.  A year or so ago, I wrote a hit movie for the SyFy Network called Giraffealanche.  The movie did so well that SyFy wanted me to write a sequel.  I decided to join forces with a writer named David Sindelar who had written another SyFy Original, Armadillogeddon.  We had written a crossover sequel for both of our franchises, Giraffealanche vs Armadillogeddon, and I was heading to Phoenix to iron out the last details of the contract.

I was certain that there was no way on Earth than Arizona Mat would find me this time around as I was traveling on Delta Airlines.  SyFy was kind enough to pick up the tab for the flight and they were flying me down first class.

First class is the only way to travel.  The perks began when I got to the airport as I had a dedicated line to check my luggage and I was able to check up to 3 bags for free.  I also got to board the plane before anyone else and a found a pillow, blanket, and bottle of water waiting on a slightly larger than normal seat and I got two armrests.

As I made myself comfortable, the flight attendant asked if I’d like a beverage and I ordered a Bailey’s Irish Cream.  I sipped my drink as I mused on how wonderful it would be to travel like this all the time.  Even better, my flight was able to leave early and we must have had a powerful tailwind as the pilot announced that nearly 30 minutes would be cut from our flight.  Not bad at all.

At 10,000 feet, I pulled out my trusty laptop and began watching my favorite comedy, City Slickers, though I wasn’t able to finish the film due to my battery going low.  I swapped out my film for my Kindle and started reading another adventure of the obsessive-compulsive detective, Adrian Monk.  During snack service, I was offered a better variety of snacks and had a small bag of Lay’s Kettle Cooked Potato Chips and a sea salt caramel.  I also enjoyed a Coke which was served to me in a real glass.  The friendly attendant offered to continue topping off my glass and I thought, “A guy could really get used to this.”

I had a 90 minute layover in Salt Lake City and had hoped for a glimpse of the Mormon Temple, but no dice on that one.  It was well past my normal dinner hour, but I was strangely not hungry.  I decided I should have something and grabbed a sandwich from McDonald’s as I waited for the next leg of my flight.

This leg was even better than the first as I enjoyed a double wide seat.  I requested a Blue Moon and was stunned when the attendant let me have the whole can.  Viva la me!  The only downside was that I knew I wouldn’t be able to linger over the drink as they would be collected before takeoff.  Once airborne, I ordered a Sprite, had another small bag of chips, and continued reading.  Again, we were able to leave early, and cut another 20 minutes off the flight.

The last perk I received for first class is that my luggage was given Sky Priority which meant my bags would be in the first group off the plane.  In less than 10 minutes, I had my luggage and was ready to get a cab to my hotel.

I stepped outside into the hot desert night and thought that life was good.  As I scanned the road in search of a taxi, I suddenly felt a sharp sting at the base of my neck.  I clapped my hand to my neck as my vision began to swim before my eyes.  Then everything went black.

To Be Continued. . .

The Arizona Chronicles, Vol 3, Day 1: Dope Springs Eternal

It started off as such a lovely day.

The birds were singing.  The sky was sunny.  And there was nary a cloud in the sky.  Yes, it truly was a good day for travel.

Once again I was flying to Arizona.  For my regular readers, you may recall that that the last time I traveled to Arizona, I was working on a deal with the SyFy Network to produce my script, Giraffealanche, as their latest original movie.  Regrettably, I was a bit sidetracked when I was reunited with an unwelcome acquaintance.

In the ensuing months since those escapades, I had ironed out a deal and was now returning to Arizona to watch a rough cut of the film.  This time, I felt certain I would not be bumping into certain individuals who shall remain nameless.

I arrived at the airport and hopped aboard my Southwest Airlines flight.  I found myself seated to a pleasant, elderly gent named John.  He was slightly below average height, had a short crew cut of gray hair, had a stocky build, and dressed very casually.  I found him to be a likable guy and we shot the breeze on many subjects.  I found that also was heading to Arizona to visit family and would be on the same connecting flight as I.

This was one of the smoothest flights I had taken in quite a while.  We left early and made it to Denver, CO in almost precisely an hour.  I had an hour layover between flights so I made a quick visit to Xpress Spa inside the Denver airport for a 20 minute neck and shoulder massage to relieve the tightness in my shoulders and right arm (the unfortunate curse of working at a keyboard all day).

Soon I was flying through the air on another smooth flight and arrived in Phoenix a little early.  As I grabbed my luggage from the carousel, John told me he had a car waiting for him and offered to give me a lift to my hotel.  I readily agreed and we stepped into a waiting limo.

I continued chatting with John as we rode down the interstate.  I happened to glance out the window and I noticed that we were passing Golfland in Mesa, AZ.  I then realized that this route seemed awfully familiar.

“John?” I asked.  “Where are we going?”

Suddenly the driver pressed a button on the dashboard and some distinctive music began to play.  To my mounting horror, John began to sing lyrics with the music.

“He’s Arizona!!  Arizona Mat!!  Arizona!!!  Arizona Mat!!”

The driver removed his hat and shades and turned to look at the both of us, an impish grin playing over his face.  I slowly turned my head to glare at John.  Suppressing my urge to throttle him, I buried my face in my hands and began to weep.  It was Arizona Mat.

For those of you new to this website, I refer you to the archives section for the stories entitled The Arizona Chronicles and The Arizona Chronicles, Vol 2 where I met a supposed explorer named Arizona Mat and his Neanderthal sidekick, Tall Square.  Arizona Mat was so full of himself that I’m surprised he didn’t refer to himself in the third person.  He had a strange love-hate relationship with his lackey, Tall Square.  By that I mean they loved to hate each other.  In fact, the last time I had seen the two of them, Tall Square was chasing Arizona Mat through the Sky Harbor airport.

“There, there,” said Arizona Mat.  “It’s nice to see you again, too.  No need to shed tears of joy.”

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I asked Arizona Mat how he managed to know that I was coming into town.  He explained that Johnny V, indicating John, was an old family friend based out of Omaha, NE.  He had Johnny V keep tabs on me until he knew I would be returning to Arizona.

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m about to make another epic discovery and I need my biographer to document my greatness,” replied Arizona Mat.

I rolled my eyes and asked what had happened to Tall Square.

“As you may recall, that Nordic gorilla was chasing me through the airport.  I tried to duck into a store to escape him, but plowed into some mannequins.  Applying my brilliant brain to the dilemma, I grabbed one of the mannequin arms and persuaded Tall Square to stop.  I told him that I knew he was only upset because he had lost the handshake duel.  I therefore offered him a rematch, but with the caveat that we both have our eyes closed because that allowed one to execute more force.  He agreed and I stuck the mannequin hand into his and made my daring escape.”

“Are you saying. . .” I began.

“Yep,” said Arizona Mat.  “As far as I know, that dummy is still trying to make a dummy submit.”

I rubbed my face and asked why he had “borrowed” me.

“Later, my Boswell.  Later.  Let’s enjoy ourselves for now,” said Arizona Mat.

After settling into his home, Arizona Mat, Johnny V, and myself walked the short distance to the Flaming Kebab for dinner.  I enjoyed a gyro sandwich with a cup of lentil soup and some water.  Arizona Mat feasted on Chicken Kafka, rice, Greek Salad, and iced tea.  Johnny V supped on a gyro platter with rice, Greek Salad, and raspberry tea.  Johnny V, a rather generous sort, paid for our meals.

After the meal we returned to Arizona Mat’s home where we sat around his new fire pit, drinking home brewed root beer, and listening to Arizona Mat regale us with some of his “legendary” adventures.  After finishing up the tale of his rescuing me from a homicidal ex-associate (read The Arizona Chronicles, Vol 2 to find out what really happened), Arizona Mat rubbed his hands with glee and announced it was time to get down to business.

“Have you ever heard of the Voodoo Blue (Woo woo!)?” asked Arizona Mat.

“What on earth is the Voodoo Blue Woo Woo?” I asked.

“I didn’t say the Voodoo Blue (Woo woo!) Woo woo.  I said the Voodoo Blue (Woo woo!)”

“You just did it again.  You keep making this high pitched sound after you say Voodoo Blue.”

“Woo woo!  I’m sorry.  It’s just that I get excited whenever I say or hear the words Voodoo Blue (Woo woo!)  It’s a rare blue diamond that was supposedly forged by a houngan (voodoo priest).  I’ve been researching its history and certain clues have led me to its discovery.  It’s somewhere in Las Vegas, NV.  On Friday, the three of us will drive over there, I’ll discover it, and your masterful writing will make me even more famous than I already am.”

“Have you ever read any of my articles about you?” I asked.

“No.  I’m modest in that way.  But you’re writing about wonderful me, so I’m sure they’re stunning pieces of work.”

“Yes they are,” I said.

So once more I would be joining Arizona Mat on an adventure.  I knew not what the future would bring, but I knew trouble and hilarity probably were not far behind.