I’ve mentioned my early life in Phoenix several times on Aloha, Pangaea. Whenever it comes up I have a prefab response about its pollution, sprawl and lack of diversity. I generally don’t talk about that part of my life much, which is a shame as most of the people I care about here in St. Louis have deep, rich attachments to STL. It’s not unlikely to stand around awkwardly while someone from your friend’s fourth grade class comes over to say hello at a party or bizarre. I’d as soon recognize someone from fourth grade as I would from a book of unsung American Whigs.
Phoenix isn’t a bad city, despite what I may have drunkenly insisted. It’s pretty new, and its cultural contributions have been slim. There are notable Phoenicians (the preferred plural), but its sheer size makes that statistically probable. I just never got it. Something never meshed. It was almost always very hot. On average, it reaches one hundred degrees almost one-third of the year. Think about that. The climate rivals Baghdad. No shit.