Originally I had thought I would get into Vegas, yesterday, by about 5:30, say another hour in customs and half hour to get to my hotel and that still would leave me about 2-3 hours to do some vital shopping. For one, I needed a phone. A throw away. Something cheap. I also needed more underwear and shirts and shorts as I had packed only enough to last me few days.
But that plan died on the linoleum floor of airport customs.
So, now that I had the car, I needed a phone.
I had asked the nice girl if there was a walart nearby and she showed me on the map where I would likely find a Target. I, then, promptly left the map at the rental agency.
However, I knew what street I needed and following signs, (oh how Margot would have been proud of me, I thought), and found the right street and drove until I hit mall, grabbing cheap American gas before I pulled into the parking lot.
But there was danger in this mall. A Barnes and Nobles. Filled with lots of books. Precious books. Lovely, new-smelling books.
I tried to ignore the call of the books but after buying some clothes (including some cool shirts), I had to peek inside the B&N. Just peek, you understand. A quick look. I didn’t even grab a basket, cause, you know, that would stop me from buying a book, right?
An hour later, $200 odd dollars later, I emerged from the book store with two bags of books.
It’s why I’ll never do heroin or cocaine. I know I would never be able to resist them and I would end up broke and giving handjobs to hobos in the downtown eastside for a fix.
I stuffed the bags of books in the trunk large enough to hold another 20 bags (or two bodies, four if you dismember them) and went to get my phone. Easy as pie. In and out really fast. Now I had something that would tell me the time and something I could use to call for help if I was attacked by bikers, dingos or forgot to fill up with gas at some point.
By now it was about noon so before I got on the road again, I would eat. Had the best red velvet pancakes and more cups of coffee than I should have had.
Then, I hit the road.
If I could do it, I wanted to hit Amboy in California (along old route 66) but first I wanted to see Needles and the area around it. Needles wasn’t anything special but all around there were massive farms in the middle of the desert and I wanted to look at them. And see the area south of Vegas.
But by the time I got out of Vegas, it was 1. Lots of driving ahead and I was determined to stop at anything even remotely interesting.
Needles. Yes, I remember Needles. If only I could forget Needles. Wow, bitchin’ pancakes BTW.