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About Phoenix

Here’s a weird one—back in ’92, Vegas cops found a prostiute hidin’ in a dumpster. True story! Escaped a john who went nuts. Little known fact—shows how crazy it gets. I’m thinkin’, man, this life’s brutal. But she’s chill, smokin’ a cig, quotin’ prices like it’s a menu. “You’re in or out, pops?” I’m out—too old for this crap. But I tip her $10 for the chat. She’s surprised—grins, says, “You’re alright.” Felt good, y’know?

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Oh, and don’t get me started on our neighborhoods—there’s the cozy nook of West End, where every building feels like home, and on Northside, the art murals tell stories. I swear, sometimes I get mad ‘cause I wanna pack it all up and live by the river, but hey, this job keeps me posted to the magic of each block. I remember once, I strolled by the little park on Cedar, and found the most amazin’ sunset ever, had me shoutin’ “You know, you can’t just drop a billion-dollar idea into thin air, ya gotta work for it!”

Backtracking: In Our Times: Variety of battles, challenges faced Oneonta in April 1955