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Alto Sedona has much to boast of. It has, for instance, the picturesque red rocks, its own Keep Alto Beautiful Club and the only honest to God brewery around.
It also has theater (or is it theatre, I can’t ever be sure), at least the kind that is carried out indoors with the specific intent of amusing or entertaining an audience that has paid to gain admittance. Let’s face it. You think you got it all. You don’t. But I’m willing to sort of trade.
Down here in the Baja we are not as fortunate. We have plenty of rocks, although most of them are faded black or off white, an active Shrine Club and a honky tonk or two. And we also have a version of theater, but it is doubtful that it was ever intended to be amusing or entertaining. It just is. And to date, no one has found a way to charge admission and still satisfy the open meeting law.
We do, however, have a casino.
Not that it is a big deal for me. Much like my sitcom hero, I am not much of a gambling man. But, I do like the idea of having a late night refreshment stand where a Cuba libre or a very dry martini can be enjoyed without the background clatter of ultimate cage fighting night at the OK Corral.
There is just one thing that bothers me. There appears to be a lot more money in gambling than there is in refreshment sales. Therefore, the management and staff tends to tolerate a level of behavior among the betters that it does not tolerate from its bar patrons. I have observed that the management and staff have a stricter barroom protocol than, say, the eager and enthusiastic inmates who operate Flaco’s Beach Hut in Rocky Point, Cosmo’s Mine Shaft in Ajo or the Turkey Creek Camel Club in Cleator.
For instance, I have first hand knowledge of the fact that they do not tolerate the sport of beer mug football. Sliding frothy mugs of beer across the bar, with the intent of suspending the smallest fraction of the glass over the edge without having it and its contents spill behind the bar, is not condoned (don’t even think about kicking an extra point). I know this. I have been asked to leave on a couple of occasions for that very same behavior.
I can also speak first hand of their disdain for table dancing. Much like beer mug football, I am very fond of table dancing. More specifically, I am fond of encouraging young girls (the ones celebrating their 21st birthday party, with little experience in the ways of dice or liquor, who have squandered their textbook allowance for the next semester and are looking to recoup their losses, make the best candidates) to dance on the formidable wooden bar tables in the Dragon’s Breath Lounge. It is a habit I picked up in my college days, and like so many other habits formed at that age, it will be difficult to shake, assuming I have ever had the slightest inkling to shake it.
Neither the management nor the bar squad shares my enthusiasm for young women on tabletops. I know this. I have been asked to leave on a couple of occasions for that very same behavior. I don’t blame the employees. For the most part they are all good people, and we are all on a first name basis these days. That even goes for the guys in security (see I told you guys I would mention you in my next article). But with all our misguided forms of amusement and behavioral failings, I and my fellow footballers are a civilized lot compared to some of the rank and file who show up on any given evening to try their luck at the tables.
I have been present on several occasions where members of the Baja rank and file have grossly misunderstood the meaning of “crap table,” but none of them have been asked to leave. Just last week, a guy (I don’t know his name, but I believe he was from Corntown), apparently, left home with his textbook allowance or some other form of negotiable funds, went to the casino, lost his funds, then drove to a local hamburger stand where he promptly called the police and reported that he had been robbed. Hopefully, his wife bought his story when he showed up home after being a guest of the county for three days. The point here is that a group of the Baja’s more urbane set is willing to trade the gambling side of the casino to you folks up valley for…say…a theater. That way, I am willing to bet, we (I) won’t be asked to leave just when things start getting fun.
Give it some thought. We could both call ourselves Mister Lucky.