We had some trouble doing this as the three amigos were sharing a case and one who shall not be named felt that he required more clothes to dress his person than the other two. I'm not saying it was Angus but I will say it was neither Mark 1 nor I.
With the bags packed we saddled up the Durango and followed Mark and Lynsey's Uncle out of Anthem and on the road to Las Vegas, Nevada.
On the way we stopped into a little roadside diner for some brunch. Of course, I had an enchilada which could constipate a blue whale - I was in America people.
After eating we headed out behind the diner where the owners keep their pet peacocks (hmmm...I wondered what that mystery enchilada filling was) and fed them and the goldfish. The most ravenous goldfish ever. One piece of fish food dropped in the pond would spark off a feeding frenzy as if John Terry had walked into a charity auction held by the Kardashians. Tens of hungry fish mouths popping out of the water, desperate for some of that nutritious fishy food goodness. Mm-mm.
On the way out we meandered through the gift shop and raised eyebrows at the $6,500.00 price tags on little native American dolls with Detroit Piston basketball jerseys on. If only I had that kind of money on my person. Then I could have locked it in my body wallet and baked that inside a breakfast burrito and eaten the burrito, just to resist the temptation to buy one.
A road trip wouldn't be complete without a breakdown somewhere along the line. Ours came three hours from Vegas.
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| I celebrated my win by trying to conduct lightning |
Whilst Mark 1 and his uncle tinkered with the fan belt, Angus and I decided it was best not to get bent out of shape worrying about whether we would get to Vegas and have the life squeezed out of us by the monster of daytime gambling or get eaten by wild coyotes in the baking hot desert. We put that to the back of our minds and played noughts and crosses in the sand with a big stick. Somewhere I know Jack Kerouac would be applauding our traveller's spunk, meeting adversity with a shrug of the shoulders and adapting to the situation on the fly.
The upshot is that Mark 1's cousin and her husband came and picked some of us up and most of us left in the two operational cars. Mark 1 and his uncle John martyred themselves and stayed behind to wait for a pick-up truck. Two brave soldiers, alone with each other. In the harsh, unforgiving badlands. Surrounded by poisonous creatures of malicious intent. Faced with the baking hot sun. Manbag-less. With no Cheetos and no fresh water.
We never saw them again.
For the next six hours. When we did met up with them again we had been wowed by the Hoover Dam and the new bridge being constructed next to it. Angus was particularly mesmerised by the Art Deco details on the Dam, particularly at the gents' restrooms. He's an architect so he understands this stuff.
We also had a problem checking in at our hotel, the Luxor, as Mark1 was the name on our room. Luckily we had his passport, so I just adopted my best architect's accent (he's one of them too) and signed in as him. Scottish traveller's - 1, Vegas hotel staff - 0.
It would be the last time we got one over on any of the hotels in Vegas.
Tales of Vegas will continue on the next post, I'm sure you've only read this far for them so for that I apologise suckers.
But for now, like a JLS torso - I'm out
x
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