SO MAD

So in the midst of writing my last post I accidentally wrote over my original airport story :( I was so sad. I'll never be that witty about airports again. To those of you who read it, remember it. Always. For those of you didn't, just imagine the best story about vultures fighting over charging stations at the airport you can...and multiply it by 2.34. Yes. It was decently good.

The neighbors will eat your dog

"Woah," I said as I pressed my face into my friend's passenger window as we drove south, out of Norfolk, VA. 

Everywhere I looked were beautiful houses and trees that grew out of natural grass. Not only that but other green things grew up and around all the trees. Ivy sprawled over telephone wires and flowers sprouted in all sorts of colors.

Also note, when I say trees and green, I'm not talking about shrubs that happen to be taller than the other shrubs or just a slightly greener shade of brown. I'm talking about actual trees. And shades of green that look like they came out of Oz. 

These are forests. Probably filled with all the animals of Jungle Book or something. I don't know, I haven't gone into one yet.

My friend looked at me sideways -- which was probably dangerous considering he was driving.

"You act like you've never seen trees before," he said.

"Not like this!" 

Hey look! A tree!

Trees in Arizona come in a limited variety: palm trees, mesquites, and junipers. Sure you can find other trees occasionally, but they are planted there by rich people to make the area more appeasing to home-buyers from greener places. Real Arizona trees have thorns as long as knives and will hold you up for your lunch money.

The forests didn't go away all the way down to Georgia. And when they did recede into the background, they only did so to make room for adorable houses that reminded me of doll houses. Every time I saw a house with a porch id point it out.

"Ooh! That house it cute! So is that one!"

Lorenzi would squint his eyes at me in that way that he always did when he thought I was being ridiculous. Which in and of itself is ridiculous. "It's a shack. The roof is caved in. I'm pretty sure there was a fire and black mold."

"But it has potential."

Houses in Arizona don't have front porches. It's too hot and no one likes their neighbors enough to want to see them. So they retire to their fenced-in backyards (during spring and fall when it's only 90° out and you can sit comfortably without A/C) and admire their beautiful cactus gardens.

Once we got to our destination I was amazed to find out that a lot of houses don't have fences. 

"How do you know when your yard ends and another begins?" I asked.

He just shrugged. "Property lines?"

"But how do you keep your dogs in and the things that want to eat your dogs out?"

His eyes widened. "What would want to eat my dog?"

"That's a weird question," I responded. Everything was the answer to that -- possibly even the neighbors! 

"No! No it is not! Nothing wants to eat my pets," he exclaimed. Although he looked at me after that like I might eat his dog. I don't even like the taste of dog.

"You don't have coyotes? Mountain lions? Carnivorous plants? Homeless people?" 

"What!?" 

I figured he was being ludicrous. In Arizona if you leave your pets unattended without a fence -- sometimes even with -- they would get carried off and you'd never see them again. Hawks would swoop in and grab your poor chihuahua (or your baby. True story). Coyotes (the animal) would pick off outdoor cats and medium-sized dogs.

A mountain lion once snuck into the Alzheimer's garden at the nursing home I worked at and tried to eat the slower of the patients (Note: It was a garden for Alzheimer's patients, not a garden made out of Alzheimer's patients).

Okay, no one was outside at the time, but he totally would have if he had had the chance.

Even the pigs are grumpy. Javelina have long tusks and are fearless. They hunt people in packs for fun. (Note: I tried finding a picture of a scary Javelina, but they all looked super cute. But don't let that fool you! They'll eat you alive!"

There are even cacti that shoot you if they see you. I'm pretty sure they eat you too of given the chance.

I haven't t even included tarantulas, rattle snakes, or neighbors into this. The morale of this story is that everything wants to kill you and your little dog too in Arizona.

"Cactuses-"

"Cacti," I corrected my poor southern friend.

"Cacti shoot you?" 

"You don't have any plants that shoot you?" I asked.

"No. No I don't." He ended up looking up cacti that shoot you on Google. He should never doubt me again. "Why would anyone want to live there?"

Not my picture, but accurate none the less.

That's a fantastic question. One I have asked my father numerous times. He always seems to have a reason -- most of which I believe might be made up. Like "Gilbert [suburb of Phoenix] was voted greenest town in Arizona!" 

Well, that's not hard to do when you have the least brown golf courses. 

Or, "we have more types of animals than any other state!"

200 different types of snake don't count (okay, so maybe it's closer to 40, but you can't count them as different animals. They're all snakes).

My theory is that people wander aimlessly into Arizona. Or they visit the Grand Canyon and think, "well, this was a lovely hole in the ground, let's see what else the desert has to offer." And so they wander deeper into the state only to run out of gas and water. 

That's when it hooks you! In order to get more gas and/or water you are forced to start working. So you grab a job and stay in a cheap apartment in Mesa and then a few months turns into a few decades and now there are generations of you there. Only hopefully you've moved out of Mesa and into a more respectable town.

Your kids ask you, "why did you never get out?"

Even the cars cant take the heat

And you, so wrinkled and tanned from the harsh summer sun looks at them with spots in your eyes and you can't even speak. There is no response. Or perhaps over the years you have deluded yourself into thinking that it's not really so bad, or I don't like trees anyway. Blocks the view of the sky. Maybe you'll tell yourself, mild temperatures are for the weak. Getting heat stroke in the middle of winter builds character

I was beginning down that road. Settling down into the high desert near Sedona. I told myself, "this is soo much better than Phoenix" as a tumble weed rolled across my path (literally).

But then, one day, I came to mysenses. And I joined the Navy. It was the easiest way to get out of the state. So now, whenever anyone asks me, "why did you enlist?" I'll say, "to get the hell out of Arizona. Hashtag true story."