Scottsdale - Day 11

August 28, 2004

Stayed at home tonight. Slept well and much recovered. Enjoyed three hours in my bed while the crew stay at a hotel near the venue. When I am finally forced from my bed by the bright morning sun I decide to enjoy a steaming bath. The first since New York. Arrived at Rawhide at eleven o'clock and immediately set to the events of the day with a smile. The old fashioned western street provides such a great setting. Sandy, Marketing Director for the property appeared at noon. A lady with such great enthusiasm, she welcomes me with a smile and a bear hug. A catering company has laid on the most impressive spread. The crew munches happily as I enter the studio, now in full swing. Outside the noon day heat burns like a blowtorch so I attempt to stay under cover as much as possible. I meet actors and performers with great faces and always a story to tell. By three o'clock we are again waning under fatigue but learning much about the western ways. The crew has me hung and quartered by the local sheriff. An ordeal to say the least and rather embarrassing. As the afternoon rolls on we lapse into a state of restfulness. As announced earlier in the day, the main gates swing open at five o'clock and in shock we receive in hoards of people marching up the dust-covered street. I cannot keep up with it. Selecting individuals and families is made easy and they flock through our doors to the horror of my staff. In the space of thirty minutes the town becomes a theme park with activities galore. I take a break and walk around the car park. Watching a coyote come of his lair he decides in his mind where he will go for his daily killings. He breaks into short gallops with very perceptible breaks to look up and peruse his surroundings. The cactus lining the entrance to the road attains a respect. These cuddly looking shrubs throw out skin piercing grenades so I give them ample room. In the distance I hear gunfire so decide that it is time to return to the fold. How is it possible I ponder for any vegetation to grow under these conditions as I return through an overgrown tunnel of oleander bushes? I look up and see the drifting clouds over the mountains and stand still for some time. Back at the town I see shop lights faintly appearing as the evening light begins to fade into orange. The teatime moon has finally won over the setting sun and peeps out from over the mountains in the background. In sympathy the mountains turn black and give way to copper tinged peaks until only a shadow remains.

'Time to move on soon', I mutter quietly knowing that once again I must leave my family and move on to the next venue.

At eight o'clock and after much conversation with innumerable people I call it a day and the crew responds with riotous delight. I tell them to enjoy the activities and they respond with almost boyish excitement. We sit around campfires listening to old stories told by old timers. Old tales of Cowboy's and Indian's and their eating habits of all things. All very nice except that as a custom before any meal the tribe in question could not start a feast until the guest of honor had slaughtered the cow.

2230 and we depart for Las Vegas. I fall into heavy unhealthy sleep, dreaming for some reason, of Safeway's.