My lovely bride (a registered nurse), is attending a nurse convention in Las Vegas this week, and I went along for the ride. That's right, we drove, leaving Midland early Monday morning. Not only do I love driving and seeing different places and things along the way, I also seem to do better when all the wheels of the vehicle I am in remain in close contact with the ground. Granted, flying from Midland to Las Vegas takes roughly negative one hour (due to time zone changes), but why fly only negative one hour when a person can drive sixteen hours and get there the same day? Plus, there are all the attractions and distractions along the way.
We made great time through New Mexico, although I was very disappointed because we did not see a single flying saucer while we were in the Roswell area or any other area for that matter. There were not even any aliens walking the streets of downtown Roswell. But all of that was forgotten because of all the hawks (one of my favorite birds) spread throughout the state all the way up to Cline's Corner. Of course once we were on Interstate 40, there was very few birds of prey. But I was watching other things. I must have been because my lovely bride kept telling me to watch the road! But I say why watch the road when there are so many things to watch OFF the road. Don't worry, though, because my lovely bride almost ran us off the road several times in retribution for my less than professional driving.
Then we entered Arizona. That's when the drive went a little more sour. It seems like there was a construction zone every four or five miles, and the zones stretched five or ten miles in length. The speeds were reduced in these zones from seventy-five miles per hour all the way down to fifty-five. Then we hit the "reduced speeds" signs, in which zones we could only travel forty-five miles per hour. I confess at one point that Southwest was looking good to me. But I got over that pretty fast when we stopped at Winslow at the Flying J. I must confess here that due to the increased travel time because of road construction, I did not stand on a corner in Winslow, Arizona but instead RAN to the men's room at the Flying J. Probably it was while I was in the men's room there that I missed the "girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me." By the time I got out the flatbed Ford was long gone. And we were back on Interstate 40 once again.
Just outside of Flagstaff we relived the accident we witnessed this time last year, when a Tahoe went airborne right beside us and flew out into the median, rolled end over end, and came to rest upside down with the nose buried in the mud. This time, though, it was not raining and there was no accident. We just went on through to Kingman and made the turn toward Las Vegas. Seventy miles later we were at our hotel. I was so happy to be here even though it was a rather uneventful drive, as far as MY drives go. Then...we went out to eat, as it was well past seven o'clock by now.
I had waited until I was really starving before mentioning that supper would be nice. My lovely bride sensing that I was somewhat "cranky" also suggested that we go eat, too, and quickly. So we left our room, took the elevator to the Lobby, and went to get dinner. Except that instead of leaving to get dinner we found ourselves lost in an endless circle of card tables, slot machines, convention rooms, and bars. And there were some restaurants in the hotel, too. I know there were because we passed the Japonais FOURTEEN TIMES! I was hearing a familiar music theme in my head by now, you know the one...do do do do...do do do do...do do do do....then that voice....
"Picture, if you will, a man and woman, both starving, and trying to find their way OUT of a casino. And picture as well, a hotel lobby/casino purposely designed so that once inside, no mortal could ever find his or her way out of...the Twilight Zone."
I turned off the music and the Rod Serling and then approached two men in suits, pistols clearly outlined in their coats, and asked them..."Please, how do we get out of here?!" They both laughed, and one of them said, "You obviously do not understand the design of casinos. They DO NOT WANT you to get out. That's beauty of this casino!"
The other armed guy said, "That's right. You can check out any time you Like, but you can NEVER leave!"
(do do do do...do do do do...do do do do)
Then he said, "Just kidding. All you have to do is walk straight through the slot machines and out THAT door."
I looked, and sure enough there was sunlight coming through what appeared to be a doorway only about two miles across the casino floor. "Ha ha ha ha ha..." was all we heard as we fled across the floor and out the doorway. And then I saw it...the Outback Restaurant.
My lovely bride said, "Are you sure THAT'S where you want to eat?"
I said, "Yes." There was not much else to say, especially since I was salivating and growing faint.
But once inside the Outback, even though the line was long, we were seated in just a few minutes. My grilled porch chops arrived in a timely manner. My bride was not hungry, but did imbibe in a drink called "Iwallabydanged." I myself opted for a margarita. Keep in mind I had not eaten in several hours. Perhaps that is why the margarita seemed a little more powerful than those I usually drink at our hangout in Midland. And perhaps that is why I felt it necessary to intervene in a situation going on at our neighboring dining table.
Across the aisle from us a large group of tourists were seated at a table for six. Okay, so I guess there were six of them since each of them had a chair. But, the reason I felt it necessary to involve myself with them even though I was perhaps not totally in control of all of my mental facilities was because four of the six people at the table had ordered hamburgers. The other two had entrees. Here I would like to point out, by way of further information for my reader(s) that this group of people were speaking what appeared to be (to a somewhat toasted Texan) French. So I pegged them for tourists and persons not familiar with American customs. That is why I felt my assistance was needed.
You see, the four of these tourists who were eating hamburgers were using their KNIVES AND FORKS to do so. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP (and I know my readers KNOW I would never make something up just to enliven my blog post)!! So I did what ANY self-respecting Texan would do (even in Las Vegas). I turned to these French tourists and said "No, no!" They all quickly looked at me. Once I had their undivided attention, I made the motion of holding the burger in both hands and taking a hearty bite out of the burger. They just looked at me. So I smiled then made the same signs again. "Like that," I said. They were all just looking at me strangely, and it was here that I noticed that my lovely bride had left our table and appeared to be headed for the door. It was also here that I noticed that two of the French MEN did not appear to approve of what they must have perceived as my chastising of themselves and their women. It was also about this time that the waitress returned from having ran my debit card. So...I got up and faced the two French guys.
I took both of them on...no, not really. What I really did was say "excuse me," point to the margarita glass, then make the crazy sign with my finger pointed at the side of my head. "Too much tequila," I said. The guys looked at my glass, looked at me, then started laughing. Then I was given to understand by one of the French ladies that they NEVER picked up a hamburger and ate with their hands. Never!
It was about this time that my lovely bride was visible just about to exit the establishment, so I followed suit, and thus did not get involved in a physical altercation with guests of our nation and of the great State of Nevada. It was funny, though, that my lovely bride seemed a little...well...upset with me. But I promise I had the best of intentions. I mean, who would not immediately come to the aid of a person who thought it was proper to eat a hamburger with a knife and fork?
Viva Las Vegas!!
We made great time through New Mexico, although I was very disappointed because we did not see a single flying saucer while we were in the Roswell area or any other area for that matter. There were not even any aliens walking the streets of downtown Roswell. But all of that was forgotten because of all the hawks (one of my favorite birds) spread throughout the state all the way up to Cline's Corner. Of course once we were on Interstate 40, there was very few birds of prey. But I was watching other things. I must have been because my lovely bride kept telling me to watch the road! But I say why watch the road when there are so many things to watch OFF the road. Don't worry, though, because my lovely bride almost ran us off the road several times in retribution for my less than professional driving.
Then we entered Arizona. That's when the drive went a little more sour. It seems like there was a construction zone every four or five miles, and the zones stretched five or ten miles in length. The speeds were reduced in these zones from seventy-five miles per hour all the way down to fifty-five. Then we hit the "reduced speeds" signs, in which zones we could only travel forty-five miles per hour. I confess at one point that Southwest was looking good to me. But I got over that pretty fast when we stopped at Winslow at the Flying J. I must confess here that due to the increased travel time because of road construction, I did not stand on a corner in Winslow, Arizona but instead RAN to the men's room at the Flying J. Probably it was while I was in the men's room there that I missed the "girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me." By the time I got out the flatbed Ford was long gone. And we were back on Interstate 40 once again.
Just outside of Flagstaff we relived the accident we witnessed this time last year, when a Tahoe went airborne right beside us and flew out into the median, rolled end over end, and came to rest upside down with the nose buried in the mud. This time, though, it was not raining and there was no accident. We just went on through to Kingman and made the turn toward Las Vegas. Seventy miles later we were at our hotel. I was so happy to be here even though it was a rather uneventful drive, as far as MY drives go. Then...we went out to eat, as it was well past seven o'clock by now.
I had waited until I was really starving before mentioning that supper would be nice. My lovely bride sensing that I was somewhat "cranky" also suggested that we go eat, too, and quickly. So we left our room, took the elevator to the Lobby, and went to get dinner. Except that instead of leaving to get dinner we found ourselves lost in an endless circle of card tables, slot machines, convention rooms, and bars. And there were some restaurants in the hotel, too. I know there were because we passed the Japonais FOURTEEN TIMES! I was hearing a familiar music theme in my head by now, you know the one...do do do do...do do do do...do do do do....then that voice....
"Picture, if you will, a man and woman, both starving, and trying to find their way OUT of a casino. And picture as well, a hotel lobby/casino purposely designed so that once inside, no mortal could ever find his or her way out of...the Twilight Zone."
I turned off the music and the Rod Serling and then approached two men in suits, pistols clearly outlined in their coats, and asked them..."Please, how do we get out of here?!" They both laughed, and one of them said, "You obviously do not understand the design of casinos. They DO NOT WANT you to get out. That's beauty of this casino!"
The other armed guy said, "That's right. You can check out any time you Like, but you can NEVER leave!"
(do do do do...do do do do...do do do do)
Then he said, "Just kidding. All you have to do is walk straight through the slot machines and out THAT door."
I looked, and sure enough there was sunlight coming through what appeared to be a doorway only about two miles across the casino floor. "Ha ha ha ha ha..." was all we heard as we fled across the floor and out the doorway. And then I saw it...the Outback Restaurant.
My lovely bride said, "Are you sure THAT'S where you want to eat?"
I said, "Yes." There was not much else to say, especially since I was salivating and growing faint.
But once inside the Outback, even though the line was long, we were seated in just a few minutes. My grilled porch chops arrived in a timely manner. My bride was not hungry, but did imbibe in a drink called "Iwallabydanged." I myself opted for a margarita. Keep in mind I had not eaten in several hours. Perhaps that is why the margarita seemed a little more powerful than those I usually drink at our hangout in Midland. And perhaps that is why I felt it necessary to intervene in a situation going on at our neighboring dining table.
Across the aisle from us a large group of tourists were seated at a table for six. Okay, so I guess there were six of them since each of them had a chair. But, the reason I felt it necessary to involve myself with them even though I was perhaps not totally in control of all of my mental facilities was because four of the six people at the table had ordered hamburgers. The other two had entrees. Here I would like to point out, by way of further information for my reader(s) that this group of people were speaking what appeared to be (to a somewhat toasted Texan) French. So I pegged them for tourists and persons not familiar with American customs. That is why I felt my assistance was needed.
You see, the four of these tourists who were eating hamburgers were using their KNIVES AND FORKS to do so. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP (and I know my readers KNOW I would never make something up just to enliven my blog post)!! So I did what ANY self-respecting Texan would do (even in Las Vegas). I turned to these French tourists and said "No, no!" They all quickly looked at me. Once I had their undivided attention, I made the motion of holding the burger in both hands and taking a hearty bite out of the burger. They just looked at me. So I smiled then made the same signs again. "Like that," I said. They were all just looking at me strangely, and it was here that I noticed that my lovely bride had left our table and appeared to be headed for the door. It was also here that I noticed that two of the French MEN did not appear to approve of what they must have perceived as my chastising of themselves and their women. It was also about this time that the waitress returned from having ran my debit card. So...I got up and faced the two French guys.
I took both of them on...no, not really. What I really did was say "excuse me," point to the margarita glass, then make the crazy sign with my finger pointed at the side of my head. "Too much tequila," I said. The guys looked at my glass, looked at me, then started laughing. Then I was given to understand by one of the French ladies that they NEVER picked up a hamburger and ate with their hands. Never!
It was about this time that my lovely bride was visible just about to exit the establishment, so I followed suit, and thus did not get involved in a physical altercation with guests of our nation and of the great State of Nevada. It was funny, though, that my lovely bride seemed a little...well...upset with me. But I promise I had the best of intentions. I mean, who would not immediately come to the aid of a person who thought it was proper to eat a hamburger with a knife and fork?
Viva Las Vegas!!
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