I went searching for the local rock climbing gym, and after several wrong turns and slow-driving-in-manner-of-stalker, I found it. Actually, I had to call their number and get directions. Because honestly, like everything in the Phoenix area (from what I’ve seen of it, anyway), everything is a strip mall and no façade should be taken for granted. I mean, the rock climbing gym is hidden by the Quality Inn and completely lacks road-side signage (you like that eh? Yeah, it’s a term I learned from working in the advertising industry).
First I found a boxing gym and then I found the rock climbing gym. Turns out, I was actually looking for a boxing gym because I’d considered taking up boxing to get back in shape. That stint at the aforementioned advertising job gave me some stupid love-handles. Embarrassing. I mean it. When you finally graduate college and get a desk job, take my advice and change your eating habits. Otherwise, that 32 oz Coke you enjoy every morning (where some drink coffee, I drink Coke) will go straight to your hips and thighs. Sick. It’s just sick, that’s what it is.
I mention the rock climbing gym because it’s the most positive experience I’ve had since moving here. So far, the Phoenix area has been nothing but a bitch to me. I’m completely serious. I mean, some things have been good. The girl at Target yesterday was really sweet, and I was able (through the generosity of my mother), to buy the adorable bowls I wanted. But you can’t drive anywhere without it taking hours* because every block has a billion traffic lights and there’s absolutely no way to fortuitously hit every green light like I want to, sometimes you accidentally turn into the stupid mall parking lot because it has its own traffic lights, Barnes and Noble didn’t hire me (bastards. I suggest a boycott. Who’s with me?), and yesterday some jerk grunted at me as I was crossing the street and when I didn’t acknowledge him (I regretted not flipping him the bird, later. But maybe ignoring him was smart after all. Who knows.) laughed all evilly and I felt like the victim of a drive-by shooting.
But the rock climbing gym visit was a very positive experience. The people who worked there were all very nice and this chick named Jamie gave me four passes for $5 off climbing, just because we exchanged info about climbing stuff and chatted for a few minutes (and I bought a climbing magazine. But then she also gave me a bunch of copies of the past months for free, so it wasn’t just because I bought something, although I’m sure that helped). It was great. And the woman at the desk was also very nice. Seriously.
My best experience here so far. Hopefully Stoker and I can go back tomorrow to try out the facilities, tonight was just a visit to check it out. If we dig the gym, maybe we’ll get some long-term passes and I can skip the boxing stuff—that boxing gym was a little intimidating. Honestly. Big guys everywhere. AND big girls. Jumping rope with big biceps and stuff. And to be perfectly truthful, this isn’t Million Dollar Baby. My life, that is. If anything, it’s half-dollar baby. Stupid joke.
p.s. The cat came back. If you read Stoker’s blog, you know what I’m talking about. I think she likes me.