We're trusting you not to spoil this, to tell only whom you must: The recently constructed SR 153 takes you from University Drive at Priest, past Sky Harbor Airport, and over to Washington Street at 44th Street in less than two minutes with zero traffic. That's it. We sometimes weave from one side of this three-lane highway to the other, just because we can. Its traffic sign announces "Sky Harbor Airport," throwing off commuters who are unaware of the pot-o'-downtown-access gold awaiting them on this road less traveled. Beware -- there's a decoy that still tricks us during some bleary-eyed mornings: Just one block east of University's 153 entrance, there's a ramp to the 143 -- a potentially fatal error that launches you straight into the road-rage hell of Interstate 10.

Best Place To Have A Seinfeld Experience

Kohnie's

On Seinfeld, Elaine was so smitten by the Soup Nazi's offerings that she withstood his abuse and capricious behavioral requirements. We won't go so far as to imply a Scone Nazi exists in the Valley, but let's just say you do what you have to do to get what you need at Kohnie's. Kohnie's scones are so good -- they're usually gone by 8 a.m. -- that they tend to inspire irrational loyalty and perseverance in customers. Kohnie, the proprietor, is gleefully unapologetic when he runs out of scones or whatever else you're craving. A "regular" who walks in after you will get served first -- you got a problem with that? And then there's the matter of the no-man's-land time between breakfast and lunch when you can't have either. Just a bowl of granola, please? I can see it from here, sitting in that jar, no cooking needed, you plead. Nope, breakfast is over, Kohnie grunts. Okay, what about a sandwich? No can do, says Kohnie triumphantly; lunch doesn't start for 20 more minutes. Defeated, you walk away. You'd better learn the rules if you want to eat here. (But once you do, it's worth it.)
Looking for a god? Any god? For just $2, you can have your own Buddha -- or choose from a plethora of other gods immortalized in wood, plastic, porcelain and brass at the Oriental Factory Direct. Among the weird statuettes are pudgy, baby-faced kung-fu fighters donning sunglasses and cute little deadly weapons. For quiet but constant affirmation, try one of the "bobble-head" dolls in traditional Chinese costume. Their big heads are on springs, so the slightest breeze sends them nodding every which way. Quirky items are side by side with beautiful silk dresses and intricate jewelry. The outlet also has a robust collection of Asian books, videos, DVDs and music. Whether you're looking for a path to enlightenment or just a cool frock to wear next Saturday night, you'll find it here.

Ancient Chinese secret, huh? Last year, the Southwest Institute of Healing Arts became an officially accredited college, offering diplomas in Therapeutic Massage, Western Herbalism and -- our favorite -- Oriental Bodywork. In the Institute's hallowed halls of healing, you can enroll in classes such as "Chinese Face Reading" and the always popular "Chi Gung for the Spine: Bend the Bow and Shoot the Arrow." Tuition ranges from $800 for a hypnotherapy degree to $8,000 to become a Master Massage Practitioner. Which beats heck -- but only barely -- out of Arizona State University's liberal arts program.

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