Sowing my oats in Reno.

My second morning in Reno was spent moseying up Virginia St. then down south of the river taking pictures and sipping coffee. After a brief rest at the the hotel, I ventured back south of the river again for brunch at Bertha Miranda's Mexican Restaurant [see blog post].

With half of my appetizer in hand I revisited Yvonne at work to share the wealth, then we peruse nearby Twin City Surplus. Afterward I visited the Amtrak station where I was able to get a sleeper upgrade for my segment to Salt Lake city for a mere $21.10, about a fifth of what's normally charged online. Giddy, I danced a jig right on the spot!

That night I sought out familiar places from my last visit to Reno in 2007, starting off with cocktails at The Patio, a friendly gay/lesbian bar where this stranger was once again greeted with smiles and left with well-wishes for my return trip home. My lone complaint was the cigarette smoke, a common feature in Nevada bars. I knocked down a well-poured gin & tonic, but intrigue switched me over to Three Olives Supercola vodka on the rocks. Surprisingly good cola flavor!

My next stop was the 5 Star Saloon, another gay haunt, where I enjoyed a pricey but stiff tall rum & coke. Needing a pep-me-up I popped into nearby Java Jungle for an iced Americano, pleased to see the same barista working the counter as the day before [see blog post]. Catching a good look at the pizza served here I thought I'd found where to eat that night, until the barista explained there was a 45 minute backlog on orders. I was crestfallen, as well as pert near deaf from the DJ's grooves.

I quaffed my last beverage – a bracing Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA – at the Sierra Tap House just down the hallway and a flight of stairs from Java Jungle.  A delightful, mocha-toned beauty with a lilting voice gave me pause to swoon, but the dude next to me with B.O. kept my focus grounded to finishing my pint and leaving.

Desirous of pizza I moseyed east to Slice of the Peak to find they had closed an hour earlier. Not keen on Pizza Reno nor the walk to J.J.'s Pie Co. I settled for a burger downtown, but not just any burger. I sought out the Awful-Awful at the Little Nugget Diner in the rear of The Nugget casino on Virginia St., in the shadow of the Reno Arch [see blog post].

The excesses of the evening – alcohol, caffeine, animal flesh, grease and second-hand smoke – led to a night populated with whacked-out dreams.

On my final morning in Reno I had resolved to skip breakfast and snag a carryout pizza for the train trip across Nevada that afternoon. Restlessness and unexpected hunger had other plans. And so I returned to the Little Nugget Diner for breakfast.

I killed some time idly riding around west Reno with Yvonne and Okie. It wasn't so much of the quality time I had desired before I parted ways, but it was what it was.

Later at the Amtrak station I absentmindedly set my sunglasses down at a water fountain, remembered them five minutes later and found they had disappeared. After some stewing I walked back to my hotel next door for a sixteen dollar pair of shades from the gift shop.

Aboard the sleeper I found many roomettes and deluxe sleepers empty. Even the family sleeper behind me was unoccupied for the duration. However I had a pair of Alabama-bound neighbors across the aisle fretting over their connection in Chicago so I pretty much kept my door shut the whole trip back.

“Highball Reno.” On-time departure.

That night I had regrets about the time I didn't spend with Yvonne and Okie, mostly of my design. I stretched my legs a bit at our brief stop in Elko before retiring for the night.