My
second visit to Las Vegas was rainless and scorching, unlike the first.
We flew into 110-degree heat, the hottest I have ever been in. Mom and
Mike took me, but Jason didn't come because it was his dad's turn to spend the
weekend with him.
This is
where Ruby and Hal Reasby now live, my old neighbors from Maltby, who used to
babysit us in the summer. They'd recently moved to Vegas just after
introducing mom to Mike. What used to be a beautiful, cozy, well-kept
yellow house in the suburbs has been lost for them. Like us, they were
cast out of this utopia. Now they live in a city apartment, probably the
result of financial trouble. They let us stay with them for the night,
despite the lack of space. Hal said I look sexy in my new jacket, but I
hate it. Then when he saw my bare feet, he commented that I had runner's
ankles- good for long distance running. I don't think he even knew I'd
been running track.
Ruby was
a saint when she used to babysit me. We'd always cuddle up on the couch,
watching daytime soaps and talk shows, looking at maps or picture books.
She taught me about the places she's traveled to, like Provo, Utah. For
some reason that place stands out in my mind. They had two weiner dogs,
Max and Minnie, who always got excited when me and Jason came over. The
best part of their house was their backyard, where a thick forest invited my
friends and I to go exploring whenever the Reasbys would let us. Jason's
favorite place was the garage, where he'd watch cartoons on a mini-TV, drinking
grape pop among all the stacks of National Geographic magazines. I don't
think I ever recognized how much of an affect the Reasbys had on my
geographical interests until now.
We went
to a few casinos in Vegas. The most memorable was the Luxor, a
pyramid-shaped hotel with a sphinx entrance hall. Mike asked me if I'd
ever seen so many beautiful women. Heavens no, they were
everywhere. Tall women, graceful women, scantily clad women. They
drew the eyes like a hunter to a deer. It felt like I had entered some
exotic paradise in the Luxor, drawn by skin and neon, the flashing of all the
gambling machines. Jackpots, joysticks, jelly-glazed dresses glinting
under the Egyptian lights, all bathed in a sandy yellow. I'll never forget
that moment, just waiting for them in the casino, watching all the women.
Next
morning, we left the city in an old, beat-up mobile home. That was our
main reason for going there, to transfer Mike's home from Vegas to
Seattle. We didn't get very far before the decrepit thing broke down in
the middle of the desert, right in a ghost town. Mom freaked out and they
had a skirmish. I wasn't happy either. But to be honest, I wouldn't
want to get stuck with anyone other than Mike. I feel safe around him,
and I think mom does too. He's the bravest person I know, and he'd do
anything to protect us.
Once he
got the engine running, the desert whizzed by quicker than we thought it
would. Relief mixed with fatigue settled in, that calming sensation you
feel after a threatening situation, or after a long day on the road. I
thought about Art Bell while looking for Area 51, and whether aliens had really
been brought to this part of the country. His radio show wasn't far from
here either, and I found myself looking for some sign of that too. For
all I knew, it could have been just around the corner. But like the forbidden
facility, nothing was in sight. I also browsed through this strange book
called Wizard and Glass, by Stephen King. Mike likes to read
this "master of horror" writer. He talks about him all the
time, and how crazy his characters are. Trashcan Man, Flagg, Roland... He
talks about Roland in a reverent way that reveals his idolization of the
fictional character. I've not read any Stephen King books, but now I'm
interested.
We came
off the high desert into the sprawl of Carson City-Reno. A Long
December played on the radio, by the Counting Crows- a great song, and
totally Mike. I just watched the open road ahead as he tiredly drove us
down into the valley in front of a rusty sunset. Another song played,
called I'm Getting Closer to My Home, perfectly appropriate for us.
I'm not sure who wrote that song [Grand Funk Railroad], but I like it.
Next day
we drove through northern California and Oregon. Mike went speeding off
the pass of Lassen Volcano, scaring the crap out of mom again. I thought
it was fun. We spent that night on a deserted Oregon beach, ready for the
final push home on the morrow.
