“Excuse me,” I said, gaining the attention of the hotel’s front desk clerk. “Can you suggest a place for us to grab a bite to eat?”
The clerk gave me a puzzled look and said “At this late hour?”
I looked at my watch. It was not even 8:30p.m. How could 8:30 be considered late? I glanced at my traveling companion, who seemed just as puzzled as I by this comment.
“Yes,” I finally responded. “Just something quick. Not too expensive.”
“Well . . .” the clerk said, obviously trying to think of a way to answer my seemingly simple question. “The café down the street might still be open. But, I cannot say for sure.”
This was my introduction to Sedona, Arizona. In 2004, I had traveled to the Phoenix suburb of Scottsdale for a friend’s wedding. As it was my first time in Arizona, I decided to stay and visit a few other cities. Joining me was another east coast-based friend, who was also in Scottsdale for the wedding. We were driving to the southern rim of the Grand Canyon, when we decided to stop in Sedona. Known for its terra-cotta-hued mountains, Sedona is situated almost exactly halfway between Phoenix and the Canyon’s southern rim. This has made it a popular place for tourists.
Prior to arriving in Sedona, I had done quite a bit of advance planning, as I usually do when I travel. I had read about about its expansive red rock vistas, numerous sites and its connection to the new age movement. I had not, however, read about one of its more interesting local ordinances. At the time of my visit - and perhaps still today - Sedona businesses were required to turn off all exterior lighting by 9p.m. At first, this ordinance seemed odd to me. But, its intent soon became clear.
On the hotel clerk’s suggestion, my friend and I drove down the highway, to a large diner. At any other time, I could tell that this restaurant would probably have been crowded. Its location on Sedona’s main highway made it very visible to passing traffic. It had a huge menu, with something for nearly every taste. But, on this night, it was practically empty. In addition to my friend and I, only two other diners were noticed. Leaving the restaurant, I noticed that all of the surrounding businesses were completely dark. With the exception of traffic signals, no exterior lights were visible for nearly as far as I could see.
Without the distraction of illuminated neon signage, one’s eye was instantly drawn overhead. The starry night sky silhouetted the red rocks in the distance. As someone who is used to the constant presence of a large city’s skyline, I was unaccustomed to a sight like this. Such a quiet, unobstructed view was almost mesmerizing. There was nothing to disrupt it. No passing airplanes. No idling cars. Not even a single light for hundreds of yards. It was quite the sight . . . even at that late hour.
The clerk gave me a puzzled look and said “At this late hour?”
I looked at my watch. It was not even 8:30p.m. How could 8:30 be considered late? I glanced at my traveling companion, who seemed just as puzzled as I by this comment.
“Yes,” I finally responded. “Just something quick. Not too expensive.”
“Well . . .” the clerk said, obviously trying to think of a way to answer my seemingly simple question. “The café down the street might still be open. But, I cannot say for sure.”
This was my introduction to Sedona, Arizona. In 2004, I had traveled to the Phoenix suburb of Scottsdale for a friend’s wedding. As it was my first time in Arizona, I decided to stay and visit a few other cities. Joining me was another east coast-based friend, who was also in Scottsdale for the wedding. We were driving to the southern rim of the Grand Canyon, when we decided to stop in Sedona. Known for its terra-cotta-hued mountains, Sedona is situated almost exactly halfway between Phoenix and the Canyon’s southern rim. This has made it a popular place for tourists.
Prior to arriving in Sedona, I had done quite a bit of advance planning, as I usually do when I travel. I had read about about its expansive red rock vistas, numerous sites and its connection to the new age movement. I had not, however, read about one of its more interesting local ordinances. At the time of my visit - and perhaps still today - Sedona businesses were required to turn off all exterior lighting by 9p.m. At first, this ordinance seemed odd to me. But, its intent soon became clear.
On the hotel clerk’s suggestion, my friend and I drove down the highway, to a large diner. At any other time, I could tell that this restaurant would probably have been crowded. Its location on Sedona’s main highway made it very visible to passing traffic. It had a huge menu, with something for nearly every taste. But, on this night, it was practically empty. In addition to my friend and I, only two other diners were noticed. Leaving the restaurant, I noticed that all of the surrounding businesses were completely dark. With the exception of traffic signals, no exterior lights were visible for nearly as far as I could see.
Without the distraction of illuminated neon signage, one’s eye was instantly drawn overhead. The starry night sky silhouetted the red rocks in the distance. As someone who is used to the constant presence of a large city’s skyline, I was unaccustomed to a sight like this. Such a quiet, unobstructed view was almost mesmerizing. There was nothing to disrupt it. No passing airplanes. No idling cars. Not even a single light for hundreds of yards. It was quite the sight . . . even at that late hour.
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