Richard Pérez-Feria
Phoenix in June? Um, no thanks.
A few years ago I was editor in chief of the nation’s largest magazine for Hispanics, People en Español, when the title’s publisher (and my partner in crime) Jacqueline Hernández and I decided to reward our hard working teams by scheduling a vacation-cum-retreat. Mind you, this was in the economic glory days, circa 2005, when large, multinational New York City-based companies such as ours (Time Inc) were willing to drop a few bucks to ensure that people like Jackie and me—and by extension, our staffs—were happy in the workplace.
After deciding that June would be the best time to take off for a few days, the question had to be asked: Where should we go? Now, Jackie—currently the chief operating officer at Telemundo Communications Group—is nothing if she’s not a motivator as well as one of the best pure media salespersons I’ve ever met. An excited Jackie quickly suggested Miami. “Too obvious for a Hispanic magazine,” I said. Undeterred, she said, “OK, how about the Bahamas?” “International travel’s too messy with a large group,” I countered. “Wait! I know!” Jackie said, “Phoenix!” I nearly fell out of my chair laughing so hard. The woman had gone and lost her mind.
Jackie was surprised by my reaction. She was incredulous, actually. She said she didn’t mean to say Phoenix, exactly; what she meant to say was Scottsdale, Phoenix’s fancy quiet neighbor. Besides, she argued, we could get a great deal at The Boulders & Golden Door Spa because it was offseason. “Jackie,” I said calmly to my wonderfully enthusiastic friend, “we’re talking June in the Arizona desert. Seriously? What are you smoking? Of course it’s offseason and of course we’ll get a deal. It’s JUNE IN ARIZONA!”
So Phoenix in June it was. Damn. I told you she was an amazing salesperson.
To add to the insanity that was my life back then, I parlayed the scheduled retreat at the tail end of a three-week business trip as I continued my never-ending quest to drum up advertising revenue for the magazine by visiting with some of our key out-of-town sales reps and their top clients. So just after Memorial Day I left my comfy Manhattan digs for Detroit (I can’t even discuss that leg of the trip, it’s so disturbing); Chicago (in good weather, it’s a great town); Denver (don’t remember a thing); San Francisco (still one of the greatest cities on the planet); Los Angeles (sexy, but too much to do in too little time) and, then, 22 days after I left my NYC home, Phoenix. After living out of a suitcase for nearly a month, I wasn’t in the mood to cozy up to the warm-and-fuzzies Phoenix was offering. Why was everyone being so nice?
Arriving in Arizona 24 hours before my ready-to-party co-workers, I decided to stay in Phoenix overnight before driving to meet them in Scottsdale the following morning. Phoenix was one of those places that never, ever appear on anyone’s bucket list of places to visit, but, what the hell, I was here. Walking around the city’s newly refurbished downtown was a little mind blowing, actually. Loved that the shiny new baseball stadium and basketball arena were almost kissing each other they were so close (and the football stadium, was just a bit down the road). Loved the light rail. Loved the numerous bars and restaurants. But, mostly, I loved being in the middle of it all with literally hundreds of other Phoenicians milling around. Ah, so this is what a big city downtown could look and feel like if it’s properly planned. I was duly impressed.
The next morning, I drove out on yet another perfectly paved road and made my way to the resort to join my colleagues. And, predictably, it was indeed 112 degrees and I couldn’t comprehend how people were exerting any energy out of doors. Golf? Really?
I’ve been thinking a lot about Phoenix since I made the move to Las Vegas last year. Yes, both places are quasi similar in some obvious ways (summer, anyone?); but, in what matters most, Las Vegas and Phoenix are eons apart. Phoenix is livable, comfortable, safe; Las Vegas is something altogether different: challenging, infuriating, memorable. I’ve always loved the phrase, “go big or go home.” What I often tell my young co-workers at VEGAS INC is that I’d much rather be a spectacular failure than a forgettable drone. I have a hunch Las Vegas has a similar modus operandi.
As I drove into The Boulders valet area, I saw Jackie in her pretty summer dress sporting her contagious smile. Right then and there I decided to let go of the monthlong, exhausting drama I was feeling and tried to truly enjoy myself. So there I was. Enjoying myself. In Phoenix. In June.