Yes, I did just say that. And I said it because as I type this I am staring at a giant mountain that is shaped exactly like a penis. We call it Penis Mountain.

WHEN A PENIS IS ONLY A MOUNTAIN

Mar 12, 2010by tracey Comments

PENIS MOUNTAIN
PENIS MOUNTAIN shot by Tracey
Taylor's lovely arty shot at sunset. It glows.
Taylor's lovely arty shot at sunset. It glows.
Penis Mountain the post card version
Penis Mountain the post card version
All these gorgeous shots are obviously Taylor's this one she wants you to search out the penis. She feels like much else about me mine is too in your face.
All these gorgeous shots are obviously Taylor's this one she wants you to search out the penis. She feels like much else about me mine is too in your face.

Yes, I did just say that. And I said it because as I type this I am staring at a giant mountain that is shaped exactly like a penis.  We call it Penis Mountain.

We are in Scottsdale, where Camelback Mountain is one of the big sights.

Now, I want to tell you having seen both, to me Penis Mountain looks much more like a penis than Camelback looks like a camel.  Or perhaps I have just seen more  — oh stop me now.

Anyway, the further adventures of Tracey and Taylor on the road: we are in Arizona, on our computers, staring from time to time at our giant Penis Mountain.

I tried going outside and meditating on it this AM – it’s not what I would call a relaxing thing to meditate on. It had the reverse effect.

We got here two days ago. People want to know if we are still singing in the car and the answer is yes, in the car and everywhere else. We now sing louder as we speed across the desert. We have taken to calling ourselves Thelma and Louise. Taylor really wanted to be Thelma. I too wanted to be Thelma.  But sometimes you have to be the mother even if you are not behaving like one. So I let her be Thelma and I’m stuck with Louise.

No, we are not driving off a cliff.

Perhaps if Thelma and Louise had gotten to see Penis Mountain they would have decided on a different fate for themselves. Penises have a way of doing that, especially when they are mountains.

I didn’t plan on this giant phallic image being the backdrop for our mother-daughter spring break adventure. But sometimes in life you are presented with things and you just have to deal. Sometimes they are in the form of a penis.

When we got here there was a mix-up with our room. They gave our room, which was just a room, and was not even supposed to be a mountain view,  much less Penis Mountain View, to someone else. They were very nice about it, rather upset and really had to scramble to find us a room as they are sold out.

I was in one of my life’s short I’m not yelling at anyone moods or I was just so hung over from night with Maria I didn’t have the energy to cause a fuss. I had my mind on other things. Normally I might have had one of my traveler’s hissy fits. But I just said  “How about we go to the bar, you pick up the tab and sort it out the best way you can.” VERY NOT ME. Taylor who finds me somewhat of an hysteric at times was impressed.

So off we went to the bar and had a few glasses of wine. Much like my night with Maria, I hadn’t eaten all day.

One aside here: yes, I am with Taylor, yes she is 19 – almost – should I be drinking with her?  You know – my answer is yes, obviously it’s yes, I do it. Not in excess, not like the little performance Maria and I put on the night before but a glass or two is fine with me.

Many would say no. Paul, Larry you out there? What do you think she does when she’s not with me?

She actually doesn’t even drink that much. She ordered a mojito last night took one sip and left it. This caused me to start a rant of do you realize that was fourteen dollars and you’re letting it go to waste?

I’m chalking that up to having to deal with this giant penis all the time.

So we were in the bar waiting for our room. I ordered the most expensive wine as they were picking up the bill and they did screw up and I was in that kind of mood.

Then it was sort of deja vu all over again from the night before with Maria, except there was much less booze and for the most part the conversation was different.  Though there were some similarities. We  ordered bar snacks and went outside. That is when Taylor brought out her cigarettes and I lit up.

They brought the new room key.  We were having such fun we stayed another hour.

Then some cute guy– Taylor says he wasn’t cute, but I think while Turk did my eyes he snuck in some filters that make people cute who normally aren’t. Anyway, Rick,  I remember his name at least, brought us up here – way up here. Just getting to our room is like an expedition in itself. But because they had screwed up, they gave us this suite – I had not ordered a suite. We were just supposed to be in a normal room with no giant penises out our window.

So we come to the room, a little tipsy, and it’s a big suite, really big, kitchen, fireplace, and two terraces, big bedroom, the works.  I go out on the terrace to breathe in some of the lovely desert air and there it was, Penis Mountain.

I thought perhaps because I had consumed more alcohol in two days than I had in the last month, I was seeing things. I was seeing giant penises where there were none.

I had them on brain? I don’t know. I don’t normally. Was this a special week?

I brought Taylor out.

“Taylor what is that?”

“Jesus Christ!” she said.

“It’s like all there, all the parts.”

I had mixed feelings about this; I emailed Maria, “You are never going to guess what is outside my window. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for this, I’m here with Taylor.”

I watched the sun set behind it. It took on a more romantic appearance. It was very aggressive when we first arrived. I felt a hostility coming from it. With the sun setting behind it, it became more comforting.  Perhaps I would grow to embrace it.

We went to dinner. OK, it’s spring break, more drinks. I think I ate shrimp.

Now I never drink and drive, but we were on this little hotel property, so after dinner we buckled up and went back to our room.

Or tried. This place is really complicated, really dark and we hadn’t paid attention to where our room was. You know when you do that?  Bad move.

So we just drove up the mountains, knowing that our only landmark was our giant mountain penis.

The place kind of twists and turns and the casitas all look alike; except ours is the only one that is close to the penis.  Well, there is one with a lap pool that butts up against it.

We knew the only way to find our way home was to spot that big ole penis in the sky.

Taylor is a cheap drunk, two glasses and she’s toast. I was a muffin, and we were lost.

Now, the sensible thing to do would have been to go back to the desk and just ask how to get our room. But no, I didn’t want to do that.  I wanted to find my way there – I wanted  the penis to guide me.

It became almost  a spiritual calling at that point.  Here I was in the desert, land of the Indians– sorry, Native Americans, who much like the Indians– sorry, South Asians I love, pray to phallic symbols. It’s only the westernized, Calvinistic societies who are so hung up on making such a big deal of it all. Come on, world – lighten up.

So Tay and I started yelling out for it. “Oh penis, where are you? Please come out and show us the way home.”

We thought if could make up songs to it. Songs that had the word mountain in them it might appear.  We were in this Playlist mood anyway.

As we made our way up and down the hills, now on foot, we started singing “Ain’t no penis high enough, ain’t no penis low enough to keep me from you.” Then more age appropriate – perhaps not-  I had so crossed line of propriety at this point – there was no going back.

The Sound Of Music came to mind. “Climb every penis.”

We went to that place where you can’t stop laughing. We were Thelma and Louise only instead of Brad Pitt we had a mountain penis and we couldn’t find it.   “She’ll be coming around the penis when she comes.”

This was not getting us anywhere. In fact we ended up jammng our key into someone else’s casita. This caused them to yell at us and we in turn ran off into the night in search of our penis and thus our room. Laughing and singing to the point we were almost in tears.

HEY IT’S SRING BREAK  WE ARE FRESHMEN THIS IS WHAT WE DO.

Well, I think in Ft. Lauderdale they have a lot of real ones actually.

The sad end to this story is we never found our penis; not on our own at least.

A guy in a golf cart who works for the hotel happened by and through the snorts of laughter we asked him where 273 was.

It was literally right in front of our nose. Like right there, like four feet away. So near and yet so far.

Proving something I have known for years: depending on penis for guidance is not always the best idea.

FRESHMAN MOM – live from PENIS MOUNTAIN