On the puddle jumper from Flagstaff to Phoenix, I sat next to a North Carolinian who was reminscing about childhood days in Phoenix.
"We were driving around the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport. In those days, there were signs that warned 'Watch for low flying planes.' We passed one and as soon as I had read it, BAM, a bird hit the windshield.
"Did it frighten you?"
"Yeah, it scared the crap out of me," she laughed. "It was in the days before children's car seats. I was sitting in the front seat in my mother's lap. That bird hit the windshield inches from my face. We still laugh about it." We continue to look out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Camelback Mountain as we glide into Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport.
"I just climbed CamelbackMountain for the first time. It was the day after Thanksgiving. Fighting for breath instead of fighting the crowds on Black Friday. It was quite a gut-buster," I confessed. "Straight up goes THAT trail!"