I had four of the goofiest days in my life last week while I was in Phoenix for the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies' annual conference. While the conference in and of itself was very interesting (there are bound to be hijinks when you put 700 journalists and executives from alternative newspapers in the same place at the same time), the most fascinating thing about the convention was where it was held, the Arizona Biltmore -- and how out of place I felt there.
This is one of those places that was clearly designed for rich people, meaning that the many of people at the conference were clearly out of their element. For most journalists I know, myself included, a night at Motel 6 -- where the accommodations include a working TV if you're lucky -- would cause undue financial strain.
But here we were, staying at a hotel/resort with two 18-hole golf courses, and eight swimming pools. I know this is Arizona, where air conditioning is not a luxury but a necessity, but EIGHT swimming pools? Throw in a water slide, croquet courts and lawn chess, and you'll realize that the Arizona Biltmore is to Motel 6 as Jack Nicholson is to Pauly Shore.
The evil thing about putting all us journalists up at the Biltmore was the fact that if we needed to purchase anything at the place, it cost us more money than some of us make in a week. Things there were so ridiculously expensive, we were amazed at how cheap things were at the airport when we left.
I am not making up the following prices:
-- For a beer: $8
-- For a margarita: $10.50
-- For a cup of mocha coffee: $5.50
-- Price for a pair of flip-flops at the hotel gift shop (according to a friend of mine): $75-$100
The high cost of booze, the fact that the Biltmore is very isolated, and the fact that journalists, as a species, generally like to drink alcohol led some convention-goers to take drastic measures. At one point, a group of us were on a bus back to the hotel from an arranged event off of the Biltmore site (at a place called, seriously, Crazy Joe's Satisfied Frog. But that's a story for a different time). Not wanting to pay $8 for a beer, several of the people on the bus actually bribed the driver (with $10) to stop at a store. The sight of 40 journalists and newspaper executives skittering around a Walgreen's at 11 p.m., snatching up beer by the caseload, with their convention nametags flapping as they ran, is a very special thing to see.
Another astonishing thing to me was the number of high-profile celebrities that we shared the Biltmore with in the four days that we were there. The place is some sort of a hub for the rich and famous. Again, I am not making up this list of celebrities who were at the Biltmore:
-- George W. Bush (at the Biltmore for a fund-raiser)
-- Flea and Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Peppers (in town for a concert)
-- Dave Grohl from the Foo Fighters (I'm guessing he was in town for a concert, but I am not sure)
-- Larry Flynt (there to speak at our convention)
-- Lucianne Goldberg (the former Nixon groupie who urged Linda Tripp for record Monica's conversations; she spoke at our convention)
With the exception of Larry Flint and Lucianne Goldberg, none of these celebrities' paths crossed, which I think is a shame. Just imagine that conversation.
Anthony Kiedis: Yo, Bush, didn't you snort Coke at one time?
George W. Bush: Anthony, you know I can't answer that question.
Flea: Aw, come on, Dubbya. We did, and we admitted we did some blow, and we're still cool.
Bush: Well... I'll think about it. Let me ask my daddy first.
While I had fun at the Biltmore, I can honestly say that I am glad to be home. Quite frankly, it was just too much. The famous people, the $8 beer, the lawn chess... that's just not me.
I guess I'm just a Motel 6 kind of guy. Hey, at that place, they leave the light on for you. Assuming the light still works...
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who can't wait until after the national political conventions to find out what "major announcement" Larry Flynt said he would probably make, considering what he did to the Republicans during Clinton's impeachment. His column (Jimmy's, not Larry's) (although that, too, would be an interesting column) appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.