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16 july 2000
----- The left side of my ass hurts like hell. (the following kinda continues from last night's entry) Woke up this morning to the persistent beeping of the hotel alarm clock, telling me I had less than an hour to check out. I must have hit the thing pretty hard with my fist, because the "snooze" didn't activate and I fell right back asleep... ...only to wake up a half-hour later to a strange roaring sound. I pounded the alarm clock again. Five minutes later the roar came again -- and that time I realized it wasn't coming from the alarm clock. I jumped up and ran to the window, pulled the curtains, and was nearly blinded by the mid-morning desert sun. Getting rid of the squints, putting on my glasses, I made out the bright red track of the Manhattan Express roller coaster just a little too close to my window. I had ridden the thing years ago, the week it opened. The next day it was closed down for safety violations. Now it was running strong again, or so it seemed. Just as I was putting two and two together (and getting 3.9 as usual) regarding the noise, I heard the roar again, and sure enough, the little yellow train full of screaming teenagers came barrelling past my window. I rubbed my eyes headed to the shower. An hour later, I checked out and headed towards my car with the intention of exploring the town a bit. Upon entering the parking garage I was greeted by the most infernally oppressive wall of pure heat. I felt like a Pillsbury muffin primed to start rising. I ran to the car, started the engine, and cranked the AC. Blessed relief. Mobile, out on Las Vegas Boulevard, or The Strip as it's more commonly known, I called Don on the cell phone and we chatted as I looked for the Venetian. I've always loved Venice, Italy, so I figured if someone recreated it in Vegas, I should check it out. I parked fifteen minutes later and headed inside. I walked around and about the indoor tromp-l'eil (sp?) representation of St Mark's Square and the Grand Canal, a glorified shopping mall with red-striped-shirted gondoliers charging ten bucks a person for a boat ride up and down the mall on the canals. I have to admit, the whole set-up was quite a masterpiece of interior design, but when I saw the "bebe" store I knew I had to get out, and fast. I headed downstairs to the casino. I wandered around aimlessly, just like I did last night, and still couldn't find an appetizing looking roulette wheel. Instead I lost $50 on video poker at the bar. So much for not gambling. At least the bloody maries were free. By early afternoon I had had quite enough of Las Vegas. I decided to head home. Back on the Strip in my car, the cellphone rang. It was my roommate, and Vice President of the company that's trying to hire me, TC. "Just wanted to remind you to return that DVD, and don't forget to get the mail." "Um ... I'm in Las Vegas, but I'm leaving now." "What the hellerya doin' in Vegas?" "I dunno, I went out for a drive last night and just kept on driving, and I wound up here." "You DROVE? You're there ALONE?" The "What the fuck is wrong with you?" wasn't actually spoken, but I heard it anyway. I felt like saying "Listen ... I broke up with my girlfriend of five years, which was ok, until I moved out of an apartment where I had lived with two of my best friends for seven years. Let's just say I'm having a bit of trouble adjusting to the loneliness and solitude of an empty condo in Malibu. This is just my way of dealing, OK????" (note: a bit of the above came from my conversation with Don last night) Instead I just said "Yep, and it's pretty cool too." Then he changed the subject and told me that my "offer letter" will be in within a couple of days, to which I replied "I hope so ..." The conversation ended fine, with him telling me he won't be back until Wednesday or so. By this time I was on the highway, heading south out of town. I spied a billboard on the side of the highway advertising Buffalo Bill's Resort and Casino at Primm, Nevada, 40 miles south of Las Vegas and right on the California border. What caught me eye was the picture of the Desperado roller coaster (pictured above, website here), which until a year ago held the record for tallest and fastest in the world. I had passed it last night at about 1am, and thought that I had always wanted to try it, but every trip I've taken to Vegas until now has been by airplane, making the whole idea rather inconvenient. I figured "What the fuck, you're gonna pass right by it, it's open, why not give yourself a good kick-in-the-ass adrenaline rush?" Twenty minutes later I was parking, and I once again exited the car to the demonic desert heat. Out at the state line, in the middle of nowhere, with no vegetation to speak of, it seemed hotter than Las Vegas. I looked up at the Desparado, towering 225 feet above my head, and a good ten stories above the roof of the high-rise hotel, and all I could think was "Do I _really_ wanna do this?" Five minutes later, in the casino, I bought my ticket and walked up a flight of stairs to the loading platform. After a two minute wait, I boarded the incoming train, secured all my loose items in my pockets, and turned my cap backwards so it wouldn't catch the wind. They lowered the little lap bar, and we were off. A slight dip, and we were on the lift hill. Up, up, and away, through the roof of the casino. There was that blasted heat again. I briefly thought that it was nice to be on a rollercoaster with so little restraints -- none of that "pull this unwieldy contraption over your head and shoulders" crap. We got a bit higher and I started wondering whether or not more restraints might be a good idea. Muttering to myself, "Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck." I turned toward the father and son behind me ... "Um ... you've been on this before?" "Oh yeah, it's great," the dad replied. "That first drop is a killer!" "A killer." Wonderful. I looked out. We were about halfway up. The roof of the hotel was disappearing beneath us. I turned around again. "I think I'll just get off right here and walk down," I said, making to unfasten my seatbelt. "Hey, it won't let me out," I whined, mock pulling at my lap bar. The little kid started laughing. We started to level out. "Heeeere we goooooo" said the dad. I turned to face forward, and in the next three seconds nearly everything I've always loved about rollercoasters came right back to me. I was weightless, flying through the air at, 0-90 near-instantly. Feeling so free, so wired. I made a quick mental note to get to Six Flags as soon as possible. By the second drop I had my hands in the air. By the third drop my jacket was flying behind me like a cape. Cruising along, euphoric, the theme from Superman was about to enter my head (I'm sure) when I heard a "jingle jingle" from behind my right ear. "Oh shit, my keys." I pulled my jacket corners back into the car, and pressed my arms against them. "Almost lost them," I thought. The ride was nice and long. 6000 feet of track. That's over a mile, winding above, around, and through Buffalo Bill's Resort. Spiraling views of the desert, and the heat didn't even seem that bad at 90 miles-per-hour. Got off the ride, feeling like a changed person (I don't know why I forgot that rollercoasters do that to me). Walking down the stairs, I checked my pockets, just to make sure. Sunglasses, check. Cigarettes, check. Lighter, check. Wallet, check. Keys, ch... No keys. I flashed back to the ride, lord knows how many feet above the desert and parking lot, going lord knows how fast, jacket flailing behind me like a cape, the theme from Superman about to enter my head (I'm sure), a jingle at my right ear... Oops. I approached the nearest resort employee. "So .. um, suppose my keys somehow fell out during that roller coaster ride, and ..." He interrupted me with a "oh, you sorry bastard" expression on his face and said "You gotta go see security." At "security" I was greeted by "Ron," who reminded me of Captain Kangaroo on the rag. I explained my dilemma. "You're not planning on going anywhere for a while, are ya?" "Um ... I guess not now." "Check back with me later." "Should I get a room for the night?" "Wouldn't be a bad idea..." He almost seemed to be enjoying this. "Uh ... so I should check back when?" "Gimme a couple of hours ... gotta send someone out to look." A couple of hours? Fuck that. I walked out to the parking lot. Once again, I stared at the Desparado. 6000 feet of track. That's over a mile. I called Jen on the cell phone and explained the situation. I needed a sympathetic ear at this point. "So whaddya gonna do?" she asked. "I'm gonna walk the fucking track. I think I can narrow it down to the south side of the casino, so I'll start heading that way." "Ooh, a treasure hunt. Keep me on the line." She was mocking me and my resolve. Under any other circumstances, I would have smiled. I walked along the right side of the track, backwards from the fifth drop. I passed cars, very large bushes, sewer grates. "Man, these things could have landed anywhere," I said to Jen. "Keep looking, you'll find them," she said cheerfully. "No way in hell ..." I was getting dejected, having walked nearly a quarter mile beneath the track, muttering my findings to Jen: "nickel ... cigarette butt ... eyeglass lens ... empty tin of altoids ... car keys ... CAR KEYS?" And there they were, sitting on a patch of sand, about a foot away from one of the pylons supporting the roller coaster. "HOLY SHIT. I FOUND THEM!!!!!" I screamed into the phone. Talk about needle in a haystack. Better yet, talk about luck, and that was Jen's next thought... "I cannot fucking believe how lucky you are. You _have_ to find a good roulette wheel." First I went back to "Ron" and showed him the keys. "Well I'll be damned," he said. "Fifteen minutes in the parking lot and you found them? You're good! God DAMN, you're good." I thought he was about to offer me a job scrounging for lost items beneath the Desparado track in the scorching Mojave oven. I politely excused myself, thanking him for his "efforts." I found an mostly empty roulette table and sat down, buying $40 worth of chips. I started playing my "system" with moderate success. Four times a random number caught my eye as the wheel was spinning. Twice I acted on the impulse and won. A half hour later, I had $90 in chips in front of me. That made up for the $50 I lost at the Venetian poker machine. I considered quitting, but I was, as Jen would say, feeling really lucky. I pocketed the $50 I had won and stuck with my original $40 on the table. Another half-hour and I had won another $50. At that point I looked at my watch. It was dinnertime. I tipped the dealer and headed for the most expensive restaurant in the building... ...which turned out to be not that expensive. A half-dozen fresh oysters, a 9 oz lobster tail, delicious, and paid for with winnings. After dinner I wrote and mailed a post-card with a picture of the Desparado on it. I left Buffalo Bill's, and Nevada, with a delightfully full stomach, a cool roller-coaster rush, and more money than I came in with. Suddenly the desert heat didn't seem all that bad. An hour later, at 7:30 pm, I stopped for gas in Baker, Gateway to Death Valley. The World's Tallest Thermometer read 109 degrees fahrenheit. I went into the mini-mart for a cup of coffee. At the counter, the guy said "Is that all?" I replied in the affirmative. "Forget it, it's on me," he said. All I could say was "Wow, thanks!" Amazing how a simple act of kindness can lift an already good mood. Lots of traffic on the way home, but I didn't care. I was happy, in no rush, and literally embraced the 65-degree weather as I descended from the San Bernadino mountains into Los Angeles County. An hour later, at 11pm, I descended Malibu Canyon to home. The first thing I did was head out back and stare at the ocean. The temperature was about 60, and the full moon's reflection looked like platinum leather. It felt really good to be out of the desert, and yet I was so happy I made this trip, for whatever urge pushed me to drive to Nevada at 10:30 last night. Last night's "I'm going for a drive" turned into a 700 mile journey. Methinks I'm better off for it, even though the left side of my ass still hurts like hell.
In the forum: 16 july 1999: : didn't write 16 july 1998: bondage : it's amazing how much more "aware" I become in the company of the opposite sex
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