Staying In Vegas

Yesterday was an exercise in extremes: from the naturally occurring to the totally fabricated, from the innocent to the irreverent, from the sacred to the profane. And I mean really pretty profane. We started our day in Cave Creek, AZ with a leisurely stroll to buy coffee, pulling little Rylie behind us in a covered Radio Flier, stopping occasionally for her to pick flowers. Lisa explained the benefits of “pumping” as she carried baby Reese under a blanket to shield her from the already extreme heat of the 8AM sun.

We ended at a gay cowboy bar with video poker machines embedded in every possible surface, somewhere off the Vegas Strip, at 2AM.

Pulling onto the Carefree Highway to leave Phoenix, Amanda commented, “The difference between this Bed Bath and Beyond and all the other ones is that this one is surrounded by mountains.” Exurbia does tend to look the same everywhere you go - the streets named after different fruits or trees, the freshly paved asphalt (although in Arizona it is thankfully rubberized, yes!), the gleaming shopping malls. Possibly the only distinguishing elements are the elements themselves, the landscape onto which suburban life is grafted.

Anyway, Amanda spoke with Yoda-like wisdom all day as we drove.

On the road north she said, “When the cacti grow close to each other they intertwine and look like they’re hugging”. Indeed they do look human. In fact much of the landscape in Arizona looked human, particularly the red rocks of Sedona. I guess in order to make sense out of such naturally occurring enormity, it helps to put things in human or animal scale.

They call this Snoopy Rock:

Lhasa sang us up the mountain as we climbed to 5000 feet for lunch in Sedona. There was a traffic jam outside the Metaphysical Department Store. Coincidence?

Sedona is undeniably beautiful. The red rocks are stunning and the views are breathtaking. We were slightly disappointed by how commercial everything seemed. It’s not fair to really evaluate a place based on a drive through the main street at the height of season, I know. But there was a distinct feeling that you were being charged admission to see the pretty rocks. People have found a way to capitalize on nearly everything. Tourists line up to pay for a view of the Verde Valle. And yet the music business is in the toilet.

Of all of the natural beauty I saw in Sedona, this was my favorite:

After lunch Amanda got behind the wheel and immediately put the top down.

The drive from Sedona to Flagstaff is incredible. It was by far the high point of yesterday’s journey.

We stopped for gas somewhere. I have no idea where. But it was clearly the only place for miles around based on the gas prices.

It was a real place. I was happy that they actually played country music on the radio. Inside they sold fake street signs with sayings like “lord if I can’t be skinny please make my friends look fat” and “life is kind of like underwear, it keeps creeping up on you”, and old obese guys with southern accents stood around chewing the fat (hopefully not their own).

Just above Lake Meade, we begin our decent to lower elevation. 40 miles to Vegas, the thermometer reads 44 degrees centigrade. Amanda says “we lost all trees”.

Hot Dam!

It’s fitting that in order to get to Vegas from Arizona, you have to drive through an enormous man made structure. More than a structure, the Hoover Dam is an event. We didn’t stay long however. We had places to be.

We arrived in time for margaritas with Jamie and Christopher. They took us on a tour of the strip and some local night spots.

It was overwhelming at minimum.

As I write, Amanda, Jamie, Christopher, and even the Chihuahua Toby are still sleeping off last night’s last round. Me? I don’t want it to wear off.