Phoenix

Ratings Guide:
Half handshake, half chest-bump hug – 5 stars
Chest bump – 4 stars
Fist bump – 3 stars
High five – 2 stars
Handshake – 1 star
Manly ass slap – ½ star
Fone and fone – 0 stars


About a month ago I was in Phoenix for my buddy Mike’s bachelor party. We had a good time, ate a little, drank a lot, and drove even more (but not while or directly following drinking, because that is wrong). See, I used to think that St. Louis was the world’s largest suburb, but I realize now that Phoenix is. Everything is 30 minutes away. If you’re downtown and want to go to Scottsdale? 30 minutes. If you’re in Anthem (where my buddy lives) and want to get anywhere? 30 minutes. If you’re in Scottsdale and want to get to another part of Scottsdale? 30 minutes. The airport? 30 minutes. The line to get into a hot club in Scottsdale? 30 minutes. The line to get into my pants? 30 minutes. The list goes on, but everything seems 30 minutes away. I have a feeling the Super Bowl next year is going to be a disaster since the stadium is 30 minutes away from ANYTHING (including the parking lot). Mike claims it isn’t that bad, and you get used to it. But he’s getting married, so clearly he’s an idiot (Amy, if you’re reading, I love being married. It’s awesome. I can’t wait to grow old with you.).

This coming weekend we’re heading back there for the wedding, where I happen to be the Best Man. I’ll be honest, I’m a little nervous about writing the speech, or coming up with the speech. I think I’m more worried about my wife’s reaction than I am the Bride’s. Either way I’m sure it’s going to kill. Clearly I’m hilarious.

Any who, here’s a list of where we ate, and a little bit of what we did to celebrate the end of one chapter in Mike’s life, and the start of another (even if the new chapter is painful to read). Just jokes people.


Restaurant: Denny’s
Location: Anthem, AZ

The goal was for everyone to arrive at PHX around the same time on Thursday night (around 7:30), so Mike could grab us at the airport (Tony, Deni and myself), then we could head out on the town (meeting Adam where ever we decided to go). Well, it was raining in Phoenix. Yeah, apparently it rains there. I didn’t know that either. Tony and Deni were delayed out of St. Louis and got in an hour late. Now, my trip was a little more trouble. I was trying to save some cash since it seems you can’t fly into PHX for less than $450. Especially in March. Especially on short notice. So my flight was going to take me from Chicago to Pittsburg to Phoenix, getting me in around 7:30. When I got to the airport there was a line at US Airways two hours long (minimum). Why? Because all of their self check-in kiosks were broken. All of them. After waiting for 5 minutes, and realizing that I would never make my flight at this rate, I cut the line and walked up to one of the machines that had a sign that clearly said “Out of Order”. I played with it for a minute, then got the lady’s attention behind the counter and said, “I’m sorry, I not sure if this is working or not, but it’s not letting me get my boarding pass.” She grabbed my ID, punched a couple of keys on her computer, and handed me a boarding pass. I then turned around to see about 350 people staring at me like I was the anti-christ, or Jim Hendry, which is pretty much the same thing to me at this point. I felt bad. 8 seconds later that feeling went away as I cruised through security on my way to my gate.

And that is where karma caught up with me. My flight was delayed. By an hour. Meaning I’d miss my connection in Pittsburg (which was running on time). I talked to the ticket agent and she said everything was booked, and she wouldn’t be able to get me on a plane to PHX until two days later (no joke). The best option she had for me was to keep my flight to Pittsburg, sleep in the airport overnight (they wouldn’t cover a hotel), then fly out on a 7 a.m. flight to PHX that would get me there at 9-ish (and in time for golf). I was livid. She booked it for me, and gave me a number to call if I decided to just cancel my trip and take the refund. I called the number and talked to another lady to see if she could do any better. I told her I was going there for a wedding, was the best man, and really, really needed to get there that night so that the bride wouldn’t kill me. She was able to find me a flight on a different airline and needed her supervisor to authorize it. He didn’t. So, there I was, stuck with two options: 1) Pittsburg or 2) cancel my trip. Then I heard the ticket agent from the next gate make a final boarding call to Vegas. I figured what the hell, if I’m going to be stuck anywhere I’d rather it be Vegas because my sister lives there. And it’s Vegas. I hurried over and she asked if anyone in line was on the flight to Vegas. I raised my hand and she let me cut the line. I explained the situation, and she was able to throw me on the plane in the last available seat (and an exit aisle seat no less), and told me that she would take care of my connection from Vegas to PHX after I took off. I would be booked on the 11 p.m. flight to PHX from there, but could get on an earlier flight going stand-by. Which is exactly what I did. I made it into PHX about an hour after the other guys. Not a huge deal, but…

By the time we got from the airport to Anthem (30 minutes away), everything was closed. And it was only 10:30. The only thing still open serving food was Denny’s. What choice did we have? Our big night out on the town turned out to be a late dinner at Denny’s and hanging out at Mike’s new house.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch (about 12 hours earlier), so I ordered just about everything on the menu. And before you read that as an exaggeration, let me tell you what I ordered:

- Meat Lovers Omelet
- Hash browns
- Two pieces of bacon
- Two pieces of sausage
- Two pieces of toast
- A stack of pancakes
- A basket of onion rings
- And a Miller Lite (that’s right, Denny’s serves beer. It’s like a dream come true.)

I hadn’t eaten at a Denny’s in years. Many years. And you know what? I forgot how reliable it was. The omelet was what you could expect. Not great, but not terrible. I was expecting an average omelet served in a heart attack portion size, and it didn’t disappoint. The bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast were all fine. I don’t even really remember what they tasted like. The pancakes were fantastic. Now, I’m not sure if they tasted as good as they did because they were sweet, and a nice balance to the protein, salt, and fried food I was eating, or if Denny’s pancakes are just better than people give them credit for. They were fluffy, cooked perfectly, and didn’t need a whole lot of syrup (which is a good sign, because when you have to load up pancakes with syrup it means you’re trying to hide the taste of the actual pancake with a diabetic attack of liquid sugar).

When you’re starving, looking for decent food that won’t disappoint you (mostly because your expectations are so low), and don’t mind risking contracting Hepatitis B from a cook, Denny’s is the place that always comes through. A surprising fist bump.



Restaurant: Copper Door
Location: San Carlos Hotel, Phoenix, AZ

Friday was a day of golf, which was highlighted by 1) a Deni meltdown that resulted in him throwing his club in someone’s backyard while they were sitting on their patio having lunch and 2) by a creepy-uncle type we met on the driving range who made this fantastic joke about the women he met at the range: “Me and those women have a lot in common. We both love [women’s genitalia].” Good one sir. Please stop talking to me.

For dinner on Friday night, we wanted to do something nice, but nothing that was too much of a scene and wouldn’t put the hurt on our wallets. We tried to get reservations at Durant’s, which is a great steakhouse that feels like it’s still living in the 1960’s and 70’s. The whole place looks like a scene out of Carlito’s Way. But, they were booked, so we went to the Copper Door instead. We were heading to the Rattlers arena football game afterwards, and Copper Door is located in the San Carlos hotel, which isn’t far from the stadium, so it made it easy to grab dinner and then walk over to catch the game.

The San Carlos is supposedly haunted. Some chick took a headfirst dive off the roof (7 floors up) about 70 years ago or something, and she’s been creeping the place out ever since. Apparently the San Carlos used to be the spot. All the Clark Gable cats from back in the day used to come here and party and spend the weekend in Phoenix. It was apparently also the last time that people hung out in downtown Phoenix, because at seven o’clock on the Friday night the whole area was dead. No one on the streets. Everything was closed. Just a bunch of tumbleweeds blowing around. So, it was no surprise that we were the only people eating at the Copper Door. Normally, I wouldn’t be surprised since we were eating at six, but since 90% of Phoenix residents are 90, I assumed that the place would be hopping during the blue hair witching hour. I was wrong.

On the plus side we got extra attention from our server. Unfortunately it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. It was his first night, and once he realized we were a group of friends on a bachelor party, he thought that it would be OK if he became part of the party. At one point he was sitting down at the table and watching basketball with us. Perfect.

I started off with onion rings, which were fantastic. Good batter, huge size, tons of flavor, and fried. Plus, they were fried. I also got a salad to start of with. Nothing special. Not sure why I even brought it up.

For dinner I wanted to get the pork chop, but they were out of them. I was pretty upset. So much so that everyone at the table started calling me “pork chop”. Which was amusing. Until our server started calling me “pork chop”. “Hey ‘pork chop’, you need another drink?” “Hey ‘pork chop’, how’s your food?” It culminated at the end of the meal when we were leaving and he shook everyone’s hand, and when he got to mine he said, “Have a good one, ‘pork chop’.” Needless to say I wasn’t happy about this. Which I probably shouldn’t be putting in writing because everyone (and by everyone I mean all 3 people who read this) will start calling me “pork chop”. Can’t wait.

I ended up getting a strip steak, which was fine. I could have used a slightly bigger one, but that kind of thinking has gotten me tipping the scales a little heavy these days, so it’s probably good I didn’t. The mashed potatoes were really good. Nice and creamy, just how I like them.

In the end, the place was just OK. But the drinks were strong, so that was nice. Gonna have to give it a high five with a manly ass slap.

After dinner we headed out to the game, which was entertaining. And I was amazed how good looking the cheerleaders were. I wasn’t expecting much since it was an AFL team, but they were solid. About a thousand times better than the Luvabulls. And yes, I’m a scumbag. The rest of the night was spent in Scottsdale, where I somehow volunteered to be the sober driver and got to watch everyone get drunk, Tony do touchdown celebrations in the streets with perfect strangers, and Tony and Adam have a UFC competition (which Adam won by using his Butterbean build to suffocate Tony).

Restaurant: Taco Del Mar
Location: Anthem, AZ


The next morning we headed to Taco Del Mar for breakfast (since it was almost noon). Well, that’s not entirely true. First we headed to a bagel place, but nobody wanted a bagel and was ready for a heartier meal. Except for me. I had been up the longest, hadn’t eaten, and then had to wait for everyone to get ready. But the time we went to go eat I was starving, so I ran in and got a bagel with cream cheese. Then we went to Taco Del Mar and I got a burrito.

Taco Del Mar isn’t that different from a Chipotle. You have a limited menu (burritos, tacos, etc…), they make it in front of you, and your stomach gets stretched like a limo. What I loved about this place (and they have locations across the country, just none in Illinois or Wisconsin) is that it was family owned, and the whole family was there on Saturday morning. Mom and dad were walking around, talking to customers, and their kids were the ones preparing the food behind the counter. It had a great family feel. You felt at home and welcomed. Plus, the burritos don’t feel as scripted as they do at Chipotle. You really get to pick every ingredient you want in it and how much of it you want. It’s like the Burger King of burrito places. And on top of that the burrito was really, really good. Plus they served beer, which tasted great at 11:30.

Fist bump with a manly ass slap.

After lunch we headed to a family fun park for some juvenile games and gambling. This is what happens when you get married after 30. First we played mini-golf, but as a skins game, with everyone throwing $40 into the pot. Pretty fun to have 10 carry-over holes with someone putting for $100. More enjoyable than I ever could have imagined. Then we did some go-karting where the only object was to spin people out. If you did, they owed you $5. It’s a miracle no one got killed. Or kicked out. And it seemed like Tony won about $50. It’s no surprise that he’s good at hitting guys from behind and making them lose control. After that we did a little home run derby at the batting cage, where Deni finished things off by dropping the bat, turning his back, and taking a pitch. It was like Jackass. Except you didn’t want to vomit while watching it.


Restaurant: Jillian’s
Location: Scottsdale, AZ


Who cares about the food? I think I had a burger that was terrible, and a spinach dip that was passable. High five (and I’m being generous).

The real story was my domination at pop-a-shot. Well, adult pop-a-shot. They had the classic pop-a-shot, which Mike killed at, but when it came to the adult version (which involved real basketballs, and a 10-foot rim) I was like Dirk Nowitzki. It felt good. I’m not going to lie.


And that about covers it.



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