Skip to main content

Tucson Phone Slingers

In this episode, Tucson Phone Slingers . . .

He rode up to Miller’s Crossing just after sunrise and stopped at the Starbucks. Stepping down from the saddle, he stood momentarily, taking in the streets, parking lot, and empty storefronts. This scoundrel then slipped his "Colt" from its holster and demanded, “Name six gun-slinging dealers from Tucson, Arizona.”

You'd probably get as far as Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday before you wondered whether Chick Bowdrie - Texas Ranger was based on a real person. However, most could oblige instantly if that same rascal insisted on six of your best gem contacts.

On this year's road trip to Tucson, Arizona, we whizzed by huge road signs for Tombstone. Visit the historic OK Corral, 100 miles, exit 303. There, you can relive the pistol-toting Wild West days. This got me thinking.

Gunslingers sported two well-worn leather holsters with Colt six-shooters, dressed in frayed denim, a bandana tied around their neck, dusty, worn boots, spurs, a black flat crown hat, and a faithful strawberry roan. You've caught me; I've read too many Louis L’Amour westerns.

However, after visiting a local coffee shop in Tucson, I noticed a radically different contrast between the modern-day "cowboy" image and the debonaire image seen on television.

In the not-so-wild west, today's cowboy is clean-shaven, a manicure, dressed in pressed denim jeans, a dual-pocket embroidered shirt, a broad-brimmed Stetson hat, polished boots, a Rolex, and a fine leather sheath strapped to his belt. The latest smartphone hovered below his gun hand, and a quick-flip, six-inch knife at the other. The horses? Under the hood of their climate-controlled, ¾ ton, four-wheel drive pick-up trucks.

You soon realize you're not in California anymore when you witness the following in the local coffee shop. With the precision of a gunslinger, these modern-day "cowboys" draw their phones from their wide leather belts with huge buckles to pay for their coffee using an app. Then, with a wrist flip, the knife punctures a hole in the plastic lid so the coffee flows freely. It's quite a sight.

A few years ago, at the Tucson gem show, we stumbled across a booth where you could still purchase a crafted leather holster for a pearl-handled Colt 45 six-shooter, a Winchester rifle, and rather large knives that a Texas Ranger might have carried.

The characters hanging around this booth wore bearded poker faces with grizzled expressions. You've seen the type—tobacco-chewing, manly men.

Draw - their smartphone slides from its holster. They snap a photo, and the conversation goes like this; "Hey, Jack - you there? These pistols are a steal, and they cost only $1,200.00 (I'm sure I can talk this guy down). I'm sending you a photo; give me an honest opinion, no bullshit." In the meantime, Lori is standing about 20 yards away, watching this spectacle, hesitant to come near this booth.

"Can you blame her?” I’m thinking the coffee shop is a little more civilized.

So, remember this year in Tucson, remain on high alert for that phone-slinging tough guy who pokes you in the back and blurts out, "Hands in the air - give me your best deal, or I'll post a video and tag you on Tic Toc."

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening; see you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️  In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...
2 comments
Read more

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...
2 comments
Read more

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode,  The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...
Post a Comment
Read more

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.   Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...
1 comment
Read more