City life can get tough -- the madding crowds, the crime, the John Tesh concerts. Sometimes, you need a break. Sometimes, you start to hanker for a simpler time, a return to the gentler mores of the old world. Sometimes, you just want to sit on the old back porch with a glass of buttermilk and listen to the cicadas as you watch your grass grow. Sometimes, you just have to go to Fresno.
| Our stay in San Francisco had been wonderful -- a chance to replenish our soulmatter with family, friends, and, oddly enough, employer -- but it was time to wander. Time to dust our broom. And what better place to dust one's broom than, in fact, something of a dustbowl? We hit California's Central Valley and marvelled at the aqueducts that quench the thirst of Los Angelenos and farmers alike. We breathed deep the dung of a million cows. We baked in the stunning temperatures. We sampled the hospitality of Kristanne's wonderful family in Fresno, who graciously came together to share a lunch with us before we sallied ho to Vegas. We even took the Scenic Shot of the Day from Otto's window at 70mph on Highway 99 through the midsection of the Central Valley. |  |
After some sage advice from Kristanne's grandpa, we left Fresno at about 5:00, with miles to go before we would sleep. Our eventual destination, the Grand Canyon, was beyond our considerable reach. Vegas, however, was not so lucky. We pointed Otto south by southeast and hit the road through Barstow, Tehachapi, and on over into Nevada.
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You can see Nevada miles before you get there. It's a good thing they have Hoover Dam and all its electricity, because otherwise they'd run up a heck of a tab on batteries. You turn a corner and lights hit you like a 90mph technicolor butterfly exploding smack dab in the middle of your windshield. It's frightening, but, like a good horror movie, you want more. You sense the danger -- this is where good intentions go to die. Vegas is the sclerotic heart of the jaundiced old wastrel that is Nevada. But, sure enough, that shriveled-up old ticker is relaxing in a jar on a shelf, watching amiably as a Jarvik brand "Superthumper 10,000" artificial heart beats in its place, certified loose and all done up in neon and dayglo, freshly fed on the $4.95 surf and turf down at Harrah's. Steve Wynn wouldn't have it any other way. |
We decided to face the beast. Espying the gaudiest of the gauche, we essayed a visit to the Excalibur Hotel and Casino. Done up as a gargantuan castle, all sparkly in Snow-White colors, the Excalibur probably does a pretty fair job of keeping your attention elsewhere while your pockets are being scraped clean. In a hotel that must have close to 1000 rooms, there were none available. Perhaps yesterday's Tyson-Holyfield debacle was causing a ripple in room availability? On to the Luxor's skyscraping pyramid. They had rooms, but by this time I was deeply freaked. There were too many people gone all googly-eyed on gambling, glitz, and greenbacks. Casinos have always spin-cycled my noggin -- in so many ways, they embody the absolute worst of our society. Vegas, of course, broke the bank in this regard. It was too venal, too offensive, too much the embodiment of fastforward stripmall culture. I can laugh at the cheese, the kitsch, the schmaltz for a while, but pretty soon it starts to engulf, overwhelm, and nauseate me. I have to get out.
But, hey, if you like it, cool. It's there for you. There're other places for me to go, and that's as it should be. Before we got out of Vegas, though, we did get the Extreme Shot of the Day. Do you remember the book, "My Secret Garden," a revolutionarily frank account of women discovering and appreciating their sexuality? It first came out back in the '70's, I think. Apparently, Siegfried and Roy don't remember it, or they wouldn't be inviting perfect strangers to come and explore theirs. Or, stranger still, maybe they do remember it. Your guess is as good as mine. Enjoy the extremities, and we'll see you tomorrow!
Total Miles for 6/29 = 630!! Our conditioning paid huge dividends as we fall short of the current Odyssey record by a single mile. We're trying to make it to Austin, TX, for the fourth of July and still see the Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon, friends in Santa Fe, and Big Bend National Park. Think we can do it?