The train ran a half-hour late into Modesto and stayed that way to Bakersfield, where I transferred to a bus to Las Vegas. Got into town around 8pm and checked into the Horseshoe. Then I went out to play.
I went to one the real classic Vegas dives, the Gold Spike. I had a couple of rolls of quarters and was ready to lose them.
I found a spot at the bar and ordered the first of six well-poured Jamesons and played video poker into the night. I hit big twice and pretty much covered all my whiskey and the porter I had later that night at Main Street Station, followed by a bowl of all-meat chili at the Horseshoe. Most importantly I was able to tip considerably. That made me a popular with the Korean barkeep. It’s always nice to be in a position to share the wealth, and god knows how many cheapskates she puts up with.
While playing I struck up a conversation with an ex-Iowan from Dubuque. The talk was eclectic and eventually he showed his true colors, expressing his disappointment in me being a liberal Commie from his home state. Well, tough shit. I was winning, he wasn’t. I could hold my liquor, he couldn’t. I went home that night the better man in every sense. Still, it would have been nice to have whacked him upside the head with a whiskey bottle, but that would have been wrong. I eventually retired at 4am.
Jan. 5 - Woke up at 8:30am and called Barb to let her know I was about. We linked up and ended up going to Hoover Dam. We futzed about the dam, but the bag police nailed her for having a carrying bag when we went to go into the visitors’ center. Come to think of it, she does look a lot like a terrorist with her new shorter hair-do.
Eventually we descended into the visitors’ center and decided to do the more intrusive hardhat tour of the dam. Barb and I had some time to kill before the next tour so we wandered about some more and crossed back to the parking lot to relieve ourselves of excess clothing and to score some water.
Tour time came and we were given our baby blue hard hats and ventured down into the belly of the beast. Overall the tour was amusing and we got to peruse all sorts of manly structures, traverse the tunnels running deep through the dam and peer out downstream from a cramped, little hole halfway down the south face.
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Returning to town the day ended with me scoring a pizza at a divey Italian joint called Uncle Joe's and lounging in bed, eating pizza until I laid my head to rest.
Jan. 6 - Woke up, got fed and persevered to blow my remaining change back at the Gold Spike. Luck may not have been with me that morning, but it didn’t matter. I still came out better than what I started with.
For lunch Barb and I went to Gandhi India's Cuisine on Paradise Road for buffet. Damn good food and great for cleaning up the pipes before my bus trip to the coast. We did some browsing at huge indoor outlet mall south of the strip, and all I kept thinking was how Vicki would go apeshit over this place. Scored some chocolate toffee pistachios at Harry & David which went well with the unexpected sci-fi lineup on HBO that night back at the hotel room.
After the last sci-fi movie I went over to the Plaza to utilize their guest laundry facilities I tried to check out their pool deck but it was closed. After laundry I tried to do the same at the Horseshoe, and damn, it was closed too. We are all not fucking sun-worshipers!
Jan. 7 - I sloth it up in the room all morning, checking out at 11am, and wait in line at the Greyhound station for the bus to Los Angeles Union Station. Good news was that Amtrak passengers would have priority seating so I scored a seat behind the driver, and was able to keep the one next to me open even after we neared capacity and they trotted out another bus for the overflow.
The driver yapped it up with a passenger across the aisle whose response was "Mm-hmm", repeated a hundred times plus. I nodded off, but awoke to stretch my legs in Barstow. Going into Los Angeles was a traffic nightmare, even for a Sunday afternoon. The bus driver displayed a decidedly type-A personality while negotiating the traffic. Sometimes the front seat is not the best place to sit.
We get in on time and had three hours to kill at the train station. I scored a couple of bagels, some more water and gum and cooled my heels.
Upon boarding coach I again scored a good seat with elbow room. Somewhere past Ontario I go on the nod for the night.
| Photos from the Picasa Web Album: Hoover Dam |
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