On the plane heading out, any time we broke below cloud-level, my face was plastered an inch away from the window. I stared so hard as tiny black specs became the teeniest, tiniest rectangles, still too small for color recognition. There's a height where all cars look either black or white. Gradually colors manifest, pin-points become legos. And then in almost no time at all, it goes from landscape shapes being made up of entire cities' forms, to blocks of neighborhoods and farms, to hmm we seem so low going over this highway we could almost block traffic, to wheels touching down. The acoustics of ear-popping seem bizarre. When mine were at their worst I could hear pockets of conversation many rows away with perfect clarity, but not hear fuck all being said right next to me. I was afraid if I talked I'd sound like shouting in someone else's ear.
Vegas itself really surprised me. (Having been there 10ish years ago, that trip being not only something of a blur, but comparisonless.)
I completely assumed that the general Vegasy
environment would force a very high turnover rate.. but in a lot of ways it seems to be surviving on reputation only. In Chicago, for example, I enjoyed myself immensely, but with this certainty that were I to actually try to sustain myself there I'd be eaten alive.. sucked in and spit out, bones cracked and marrowless. In Vegas, it appeared almost impossible to fail. I'm still not sure what I make of that. A small aside back to the plane. I glanced over at the book Siamang was reading, page 165. I looked away about 2 minutes, and he was on page 193. They were just starting to serve meals. By the time they got past us in the 7th row, he was on 260something. This is because he is a robot.
The words "tip-driven economy" don't even begin to describe it. From the moment we got off the airport shuttle where the driver clutched my last bag aggressively as he angrily demanded a tip, to the boxes with little "gratuity is not included" signs on the counters of convenient stores. What's an appropriate tip for a 40 and a pack of gum? I think it just might be possible to walk around with your hands out and come away with more than some odd change, lint, and a pool of spit.
Standing in line at the courthouse was a complete surprise to me.. a line out the door of people getting marriage licenses. I know it's a thing to do
, but jebus. On the strip between the courthouse and The Strip, nothing but chapels and bail bonds establishments the whole way down. People stand outside the courthouse asking people on the way out if they have a chapel, and handing out fliers. I was incredibly disappointed to find most of the wedding places specialized in these awkward, prom-like ceremonies where they supply a limo ride, a corsage, and a package of pictures of you standing under an indoor gazebo. After many phonecalls we found a place that had a basic "I-do Ceremony", and went with that. I found my own ceremony desires inexplicable. I wanted a place with a steeple, but no "ceremony" or decor inside. I wanted a "fake priest", but no elaboration, no pomp and circumstance. Drive through or court house wedding not enough, flowers and walking too much.
As we stood there I could hear my own voice when I repeated or answered. Hear it that way you usually only get from a recorded playback, where the words sound like they're coming from outside your head.
On the way to get the license, the taxi driver asked how nervous we were. I hadn't really thought about that so explicitly, so I gave it some thought.. and couldn't find any
. Like not even nervousness over the process, not even generalized "last minute" fears. Eagerness and glee. It reminded me a bit of seeing wemble
at her wedding, seeing both of them looking at each other with these natural, beaming smiles.Somehow a child of a chapel employee fell in love with meetzemonsta. No one had the heart to tell her it'll end in tears. And a cage, and an oven. aprilrobin
did such a mean thing to me.. it started innocently enough, a trip to a makeup store
on The Strip. Now we're home and I'm on their website searching for locations because you just can't tell what colors will look like via online
, and the closest stores seem to be 2 hours away. Bah! I have this little voice in the back of my head saying "You never know, it *could* be worth the trip.."
over a store I really shouldn't be devoting too much thought to, anyway. It was an incredibly enjoyable way to blow the $ I won at blackjack, at any rate. ("Won" of course meaning "won back"..)