Las Vegas, NV

Ahhh, Las Vegas. The city of lights, the city of dreams, the windy city, the first city established in the United States of America, and last but not least, the city where I was born in another life. Staying for the night as I swing on to Denvemolorado. Admittedly, I am just here to see my parents because they are here for the weekend!

If this city was a human being (or humanoid), we would probably have more in common than I would like to think. Because I disagree with the "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" slogan, I plan on telling you, fellow blog readers, everything that I do here. Not just the some-what interesting things that I normally tell you to try to make me (myself) seem cooler than I really am. This means tomorrow's blog post promises to be interesting, as I am about to go down to the bar and drink on my parent's room tab.

Today I flew into the Greyhound Bus station to catch the Las Vegas Metro bus to Las Vegas Blvd and the Flamingo Hotel where I am staying. I got on the first bus that stopped and asked if he goes to Flamingo Rd. He said no, but told me that I could ride the 108 to get there. I saw that the fare was $2. The 108 bus came a few minutes later and I got my billfold out to find that I had a $1 and a $5. "Shit". I got on the bus and inserted the $1 into the machine and started walking to the back. "It's $2 dollars man",  the driver said. I played the fool, "I thought it was only $1". "No, it is $2 dollars", he said. I turned to the back of the bus with my innocent mask on, "Does anyone have change for a $5?" No one responded and kept their heads down. "Just get to the back", the driver said. I said my thanks and walked back.

We crossed under a freeway and stopped at the Las Vegas Premium Outlets shopping center. I looked at all of the people getting onto the bus, internally judging many of them for their exorbitant amounts of newly purchased accessories and clothing. (I judge them because I think I am better sitting over here in my corner of the bus with my beard and my filth and my very immature and sad judgmental qualities.) Until this point, I was perfectly cool riding the bus for the $1 I put in, but as people settled down, my personal Jiminy Cricket tells me that I should break my $5 and pay the rest of my fare. So, I begin asking people around me for change, and in an effort to ease there possible worry about money dealing with strange men on the city bus I pull out my $5 to show them. No. No. No. Some of them did try to look for the change, most did not. So I give in, "At least I tried" I tell myself. We carry on down Main St, stopping for extended amounts of time at each stop, I suppose to stay on schedule.

Now I am beginning to consider that I am not entirely sure where to get off of this thing. Normally I would talk with the driver, but he is not going to be thrilled to chat with the bum who can't pay the whole fare. So, a selfish drive to gain acceptance from the driver now re-sparks my efforts in breaking the $5 bill. I turn to some folks sitting behind me, and BINGO, they'se gots the dough.  I walked to the front, "OK sir, here is that other dollar I owed you. Oh and can you tell me where...". He gives me the directions I need and I return to my seat. Not much else happened on the bus except I farted on accident when I was adjusting my pack and guitar to make room for my legs.

Let me wrap this up: I walked into a gas station to use their Yellow Pages to find the address of the hotel, I walked a few blocks to the hotel, was too lazy to walk another block around the corner to the hotel entrance so I climbed a a chain link fence to climb a brick wall to jump down about 7 feet to the other side where the hotel parking garage is, found my parents hanging out in the hotel's casino bar, and came up to the room to wash my underarms (because I don't use deodorant or antiperspirant) and change my shirt. Oh ya, and I can confirm there is a major difference in the smell between the underarm with hair and the one without.