I'm curious as to whether or not the people of Phoenix were implored in any way prior to Super Bowl week to be especially courteous to visitors. If so, it worked ... and when Monday morning rolls around, if you're just sick of being nice, and you want to moon me and throw rocks at me on my way out of town, I'll totally understand.
But if there was no "coaching up" that took place beforehand, then you're just an exceedingly nice group of people, and I'm in love with you. I'm not kidding. If the rest of America was as nice as you, I'd just walk around all day smiling like an idiot, handing out Jolly Ranchers, and french-kissing total strangers. You make me feel like dancing, people of Phoenix.
It's everyone I've encountered. Cab drivers, bartenders, store clerks ... even the guy at the Carl's Jr. drive-thru at 2 a.m. last night. He handed me a sandwich and smiled at me like I just saved his baby sister from a life of crack-addiction and whoring.
I'm pretty sure I could walk up to a random guy on the street, punch him in the face, and he'd pick himself up off the ground and say, "That's an awfully good punch you have there, sir! Enjoy Tempe!"
There are even people downtown who are hired to just stand around and be nice. They're called the Copper Square Ambassadors, and really, all they do is make themselves visible, give you directions, tell you about cool stuff to do, and smile at you. I love them. I'm going to stuff one of them in my bag and take him home with me, where he'll be able to provide me with valuable information about Phoenix 24/7, which I'll find comforting, even if I'm 2000 miles away.
Your hospitality makes me happy, Phoenix. Before I leave, I'm kissing each and every one of you.