I think I will at some point write on the Odyssean journey across town on the "Strip" to go see aquatic life (talk about a Steve Zissou moment), but not now. I have too much stuff to get done. Here is what I wrote on the first day within minutes of leaving:
July 2, 2005
If I believed in omens, I probably would have bagged the whole trip. I sat at the kitchen table, my broken glasses in front of me, wondering at the efficacy of wandering around Las Vegas in a near-sighted haze. I had already run through all the possible scenarios for fixing the glasses—tape, solder, mega-bond super glue, but I knew none of them would work on the metal. The bridge has snapped because I had inadvertently stepped on them while packing.
There really isn’t that much to plan for when you are planning a three-day trip to las vegas: 2 pairs of cargo shorts, 3 tee shirts with clever graphics, Tevas, 4 pair of underwear (just in case), 2 pair of socks, dependable shoes, necessary toiletries, and your wookie mascot complete with rubber Uncle Sam hat with a jauntily-turned brim. Since most of the time in Vegas is spent wandering around various casinos, sitting down and gambling, sitting down and drinking, or sitting down and sleeping in the hotel room, you don’t need all that much to get by.
One thing you do need, however, is the ability to see clearly—not so much for the sites of Las Vegas which are probably better off seen blurry, but more to be able to see your cards at the table, and whether anyone is intent on harming you. So there I sat, looking at the broken glasses, and knowing full well that even those one hour eye glass places in general take 5 to 6 hours by the time you are out the door with an ill-fitting pair of glasses. I had found my prescription, but of course it was out of date and they would require me to be reexamined (that’s what would take the most time and most of the money which would be better spent playing black jack. Depressing.
But no. No. I must go. It was imperative, even if the broken glasses were ominous and the problem of being unable to see properly, so I grabbed up the glasses, swore at them and shoved them in my pocket.
While collecting previously mentioned toiletries, I was happy to find that I had one of my old contacts that I thought I had lost, so I wet it down and popped it in my right eye, resting assured that vision in one eye is better than vision in none.
And that is all I wrote the entire trip. So much for travelogues.
I'm, a, really glad about the four pairs (pairs? I never did get that) of undershorts...in case of....WHAM!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteHey, leave town, and serious blogging happens. I hope your trip to Las V. wasn't hellish, as mine tend to be. My first husband was from Vegas, and loved it for all sorts of reasons that never, ever made it loveable for me. A hot wind always blows in LV, and that's the murderin' kind of wind. Homicidal wind. I, on the other hand, have spent several days in Idaho, walking near the Snake River, seeing trumpeter swans, moose, pelicans, and a strange and gorgeous blue bird that I've yet to identify. So complete was my exile from the urban world that I tried but once to connect, internet-wise, and immediately gave up. I did, however, read a big fat pile of trashy magazines, which included a Lindsay Lohan cover.
ReplyDeleteMy, my Lisa, that sounds heavenly, not the Lindsey cover but the walks.
ReplyDeleteYes Vegas has that hot wind.
ReplyDeleteI was acutally going to write more about the people that live/work in or are attracted to that part of Vegas, but aside from the aging cocktail/diner waitresses who have a propensity to call you "honey" or "sweetie" or "darling" I didn't really note as many people living out stereotypes this time (well aside from patrons.) I just think there were too many folks there for the 4th.