Halfway through my drive from Zion to Vegas, I wondered to myself - "what better way to follow up a couple of days of hiking amidst some of mother nature's most unspoiled terrain than a night of debauchery in the most artificial, garish and over the top city known to man?" If you think this plan sounds like a recipe for disaster, you would be right.
The drive to Vegas was actually really scenic, through the mountains and desert of Arizona and Nevada. Coming up on Vegas from the east makes you realize - you're really in the middle of nowhere. I never really appreciated how desolate the area around Vegas was when I flew in. I also never had the experience of actually driving a car on the strip before - which was pretty sweet.
I pulled in to the Mirage at around 8pm (aka noon, Vegas time) and was ready for some white tigers, free drinks and light gambling. I have always admired the Mirage. As the first of the "new" mega hotels on the strip, I feel that it's teetering on the edge of being a little dated, 80's and cheesy, as it's neighbors duel to outdo each other on size and flash...but something about the Mirage works for me. Maybe it's my hope that I'll be playing craps at a table with Gordon Gekko....but I was thoroughly excited for my Mirage experience.
I checked in, enjoyed a couple of room fridge Bud Lights and got ready to head down to the tables. I spent a couple of hours playing craps, with what was a decidedly older crowd than I was used to from my stints at Paris and even Mandalay. Maybe because it was a Wednesday night, but the action was a little slow and the table I planted myself at was terribly cold. Things picked up a bit when some old dude showed up at the table, sideled up next to me and started betting big on the "Don't". For those unfamiliar with craps, he was basically betting that the shooter would 7-out, and everyone at the table would lose. It's kind of like betting with the house in blackjack - which is not allowed in that game, but in craps, its fair game....but highly frowned upon. Think of that guy that wears his Yankee gear to Fenway for a Sox/Yankees game, and roots loudly for the visiting team...and you get the idea. Anyway, as soon as this guy shows up and plunks his $500 down on Don't, the table heats up and we all go on a roll. Nothing could have made me happier than the old dude slinking away after about 30 minutes, down a hefty amount, to the muffled jeers of his fellow players. It was on.
After an hour or two of treading water at the table, it was time to check out the scene in the rest of the casino. I went to one of the jungle lounges and started talking to a couple of tipsy, but otherwise friendly English guys. To make a long story short, we hit the town from there and had our last Red Bull at about 8am. I went to sleep at about 830 and sprang out of bed, ready for my 10 hour drive to SF at 11.
Needless to say, the next 10 hours would not be fun. I had a couple of factors working against me: (1) I felt horrible, (2) it was about 95 degrees outside, in the shade and (3) I had about 1 hour remaining on my book on tape. By the time I was through Death Valley, it would be useless to me.
I got in the car at the Mirage, drove about 1 mile and had to stop to rest. I chose to hit the In N Out Burger on Dean Martin Blvd...which was a gift from above. After a couple burgers, I was rejuvenated and on the road again. I took Highway 15 west towards LA for a couple of hours. It's a brutal stretch of road, though some of the hottest, driest land on my drive. I love to think of this road on a typical Sunday afternoon - jammed with carfuls of miserable Angelenos trudging back home after their weekend in Vegas. It has to be the most hungover stretch of road in America. I don't know if it's officially called "Hangover Alley" - but it should be. The other drivers did not look good. And it was only Thursday.
The drive was just as brutal as I thought it would be. I drove all the way through the inland empire of California - which is the vast expanse of valley in the center of the state....it's all farmland, and essentially looked like what I thought Kansas would be. Not the most exciting scenery, but fortunately, there were a LOT of Tejano radio stations to keep me company. The motivation to make it to the finish line was strong, though, and I would not be denied. I hit the Bay Bridge at about 1030pm - for the final, dramatic approach into my new hometown of SF!
Absolutely brilliant, Paulie! I'll invite myself on a vegas trip with you one of these days.
-p-
Posted by: Patrick | June 01, 2007 at 12:34 PM
Pat Myers. Inviting himself to VEGAS? I don't even know you anymore.
Posted by: Paul | June 15, 2007 at 06:14 PM