Should you ever wend your way toward Kingman, AZ, you may think of taking a side trip around the Hualapai Mountains (exit 59 off I-40). And if you do that, you may consider having a drink (or heck, stop for a whole lunch) at the Hualapai Mountain Resort. And then, once you've found how congenial and genuine your hosts are, how earthy and pleasant your neighbors are, and how soft and unconcerned the local dog is, you may just say to yourself, "Heck, why don't we check into a room for the night?"
Jay and I booked at gig here for a date that turned out to be three days after the owners let the place go to a new manager: Miss Kathy, who (although she didn't know us from Adam) trusted our agreement with the previously mentioned previous owners, let us play, then took such good care of us that we felt almost sad we had a different commitment for the following night. While Jay played the first set, I made friends with Sean, Matthew and Olivia (!), three children who were having dinner there with their grandparents. They watched me change my strings and accepted the bracelets I made for them from the discards. The folks who comprised our audience bought CD's and download cards, tipped us generously, sang along to singalongs, danced exuberantly, and generally made us feel we were doing what we were born to do. The following morning Kathy had to ask me for another set of albums since she'd given hers to a couple who had been listening from their room.
Five stars for love. Thank you, Hualapai.
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