Day 9 – NV, CA

Day 9 -- Leaving Las Vegas. The daytime personality of Las Vegas is quite a contrast from the nighttime one. As you drive by the casinos during the day they look like misplaced toys in a spoiled child’s bedroom. At night I love the stunning tackiness which is at once obnoxious and alluring. It’s fun to allow yourself to be sucked in while you stand there aware that sucking you in is exactly when the whole environment is designed to do just that. I couldn't believe that I was tempted to stop on the way out of Nevada at one of these massive grotesque casinos-in-the-middle-of-nowhere to gamble. You know just once I’d like to hit a small jackpot. Maybe $1,200 or something like that. Just to feel like I could walk a ONCE with a lot more than I walked in with.

The drive down from southern Utah to Nevada to California gives you a perspective of what and where southern California is than I have never had in a lifetime of watching movies and television. Nothing can replace the feel of actually being there. You drive through a major decent from Utah to Arizona to Nevada and then again about 60-70 miles from Los Angeles as you drive thought another huge decent into the San Fernando Valley. I don’t get how you drive down out of the desert into a valley. I always think of deserts as being the bottom of valleys, but what do I know. So it is educational, but not particularly beautiful by comparison. Had I flown to Vegas and driven down to Los Angeles, I’m sure I would have found it stunning.

The L.A. freeways. Everything you’ve heard and much worse. And I never slowed down the whole way into Van Nuys. I’m as used to driving in traffic as you can get (as a Midwesterner) but it is still really stressful to drive fifty miles at 75-80mph across six lane freeways with fast moving traffic all around you. But I survived nicely and found Phil and Cindy’s house. They are my lifelong friends whom I rarely get to see and who treat me like a celebrity. As comfortable as I am with them (And have always been), it felt strange to “arrive”. The journey was wonderful.

Since my encounters with strangers were nil today, I’ll explain the “Tubby” incident. Many of you have heard it. It happened in Rocky Mountain National Park. My son Rob and I had flown into Denver to drive up to visit my brother and sister-in-law, Jerry and Cheryl. We arrived early and had to kill the day while Jerry and Cheryl were at work. So we headed from Boulder and spent about 17 minutes there before we were bored and ready to move on. I suggested we drive up to Estes Park and on up Trailridge road – which as you probably know is the highest paved road in the country. It was an inferno in the foothills; about 95F and no wind. But at 12,000 ft the temp had dropped to 62F and with the bright sun it felt great. We parked at the store and visitor’s center and got out. I was struggling with the altitude and sun and was very lightheaded – my medicines were not getting it done that day. It was difficult to stand and walk and I could barely see.

So I struggle over to a bench and sit. Rob says "I'll be back in a minute" and heads over to the hundred or so steps that actually take to up to 12,000 ft exactly (really 12,006). Within what seemed like a minute he was standing next to me. Wow! that was fast. – Now remember, I was feeling like shit and really cranky. – I saw a pudgy college kid with a Penn State hoodie on and I said “Why don’t you race Tubby over there? I bet you could go up back twice before he gets to the top.” I said some other uncharitable things about Tubby – he was out of earshot of course. After a moment’s pause, a college kid in a Michigan State T-shirt is standing next to me and says ”I don’t appreciate you calling my cousin Tubby. Why don’t you shut your mouth?” I stared at him in disbelief. In my youth I would have been scared and apologized. After all, I was the asshole in this little theatre. But in my advanced years and cranky mood, I fought back every urge to say “Well fuck you and your tubby cousin too!” The kid started walking away and the best I could muster was “Well excuse the hell outta me.” He told me to shut my mouth. All the while Rob is thinking, I wish this crazy old man would shut up before we get our asses kicked. By now the kid is talking to Tubby and they’re looking back over at me pointing. There’s four of them. I stare them down. Bring it on, punks! Remember I’m a sixty year old man who has a bi ventricular pacemaker, autonomic failure and can barley stand. And I’m staring them down! Rob must be dying by now. Well the bunch of pussies walked away. Rob and I laughed – not at them, at me and my incredibly brazen stupidity.

I guess I think I’m invincible because I can always say “Are you going to hit a sixty year old man with a pacemaker?” Hope I don’t find someone who answers yes to that.