Desert Drive:
Driving in the desert is life changing. The more I think about it, the more I want to go back.
We crossed over the Nevada/California border and gassed up at some bizarre station that had a connecting monorail (another mysterious monorail!) to casinos on either side of the highway. One Casino had a rollercoaster wrapped around it. Last chance for family fun! Breakfast was a bit Mormon-y in a Bob Evans style buffet. Weird shaped sausages and patties intermixed with “shit on a shingle” fixin’s! Mmm more grease, please!
We cross over the threshold of the Mojave National Preserve, just off the mountain pass, and enter the desert. Joshua trees are everywhere and I’m surprised at how green it was until SharkBoy reminded me that it was “spring” here. At our first stop, an outcropping of rocks and buckshot riddled signs, we got out of the car to get our picture and like a hammer to my ears, the silence hits me. Nothing. No wind, no birds, no Vegas carnies. Silence.
We drove on with the top down while playing various popular opera arias. I didn’t speak much because I was in awe of the view.
Then, miles from any village or highway intersection, we came upon a tall tree full of shoes. It reminded me of shoes on power lines but some of these shoes had messages on them – mostly “I wuz here!” and such but a couple mentioned their loves, fears, etc. There were even scuba flippers way up in the upper branches. SharkBoy was upset that he didn’t have any spare shoes to leave behind. It was probably the most surreal moment in the entire trip (except for most of West Hollywood).
We stopped about a mile from a crater but the road leading to it was dirt and we didn’t want to risk the suspension. This is where SharkBoy claims to have seen the largest, reddest spider in the history of mankind. I didn’t, but I did see webs which made me get back into the car. Faster than usual.
In a village called Joshua Tree, we found the only gay couple within miles who owned the local pottery shop. How is that possible?
After SharkBoy got a “Military Cut” in 29Palms – a military town full of Koreans (…?) we drive up a pass, down the other side, we pass row upon row of windmills to enter Palm Springs…
Las Vegas: Sin City! The first thing we encounter is a surly pissed off white guy driving our cab at 1000 miles per hour to the Luxor. Ah the Luxor – the hotel that would make Evil Panda weep openly in it’s cavernous lobby in front of the loose interpretation of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Upon arrival we discover:
I don’t know what to think of Vegas. Not being much of a gambler or a drinker, it was like watching a RA-absent frat party from behind a one way mirror, teeter close to a riot. Empty drink glasses from all the hotels littered the streets. Anyone who talked to us was only interested in getting money from us. Ironically we only spent about $50 total between us both on gambling yet we managed to burn through nearly half our budget in the two and a half days in Vegas with very little to show for it. I loved the glitz and showiness of the city (It was a graphic designer’s retro-dream seeing all the fonts of the old neon signs) but the gaudy tackiness wore thin after a while. Especially after the “free show” outside Treasure Island resort. Trust me. Do. Not. See. It. Total waste of time. Example “joke” they blasted out onto the public street:
