All around us rose the hotels and office towers of downtown Phoenix. Beyond the railings, the sun was slipping behind the violet ridges of South Mountain.
We weren’t by the beach we were standing on a rooftop in the middle of the desert. It looked like Spring Break, but it was the Fourth of July. An international cast of young partiers cavorted at each table, wearing flipflops and wrapped in towels, but also gnoshing on skewered meats and fish tacos.
They swam to the edges and sipped cocktails. Bronzed swimmers smacked beach balls over the turquoise water.
