Weaklings, deviants, and criminals

"Weaklings, deviants, and criminals. Criminals, weaklings, and deviants..."

He kept saying it over and over again. What's going on, Ryan? I thought.

What's up with this talk show host? We must've been listening to some conservative commentator as we drove through mile-high parts of Arizona. By repeatedly chanting his triune mantra, he was highlighting the illegitimacy of the only segment of society "those dern liberals" seem to care about and defend. Somehow he tied this chant into an anti-clone rant. That pissed off Ryan, who wonders what the big moral deal is with time-delay clones?
I wonder myself.

We rolled past terrorist target #1 some time around 1am or so, the Hoover Dam, and got into Kathryn's place around 2am. She wasn't anywhere to be found, but we were desperate for respite, so we broke in. Later we found a key under the welcome mat (doh!). Kidding Kathryn!

The next day we fumbled around, got ourselves together, and went shopping for the night's supplies... bagels, cheese, and booze. At the grocery store we went to, they had funny tamper proof things on the booze. Seems funny that Nevada, of all states, would go to the trouble. As prep for the night, we watched a manly film, Gladiator, where Russell Crowe plays a strong, integrous Uber-man who lives only to see justice in Rome. Then we saw Ocean's Eleven, to get us in a Vegas mood. Sometime around eight, we left Kat's to head to the Strip. Ryan had a strategy for parking in the Monte Carlo, close to the action.

We walked around a few of the big hotels, and the crowd got thicker. Eventually the fuzz closed down all the streets, herding the now-teeming masses onto the sidewalks. Rumor had it that women would flash you for beads -- of course, I would turn my eyes away as one chaste. Several times I saw a group of rowdies surrounding a woman, shouting "Show your t***!" and I was a bit worried things would get out of hand. I did see violence a few times. On the casino floor in one hotel, a gang of lascivious young men, alcohol fueling lustful passions, saw a young couple walking by, having a good time. Lust can turn to envy and wrath when you're pissed and legless. So one of the gang called the man a "Fag!" and some shoving ensued in typical chicken-chested tough guy fashion. I think the woman did most of the shoving, defending her man. And in return, Mr. Tough Guy punched the woman back! What a weakling, deviant, criminal!

At some point where the crowd was so thick and slow that it was like waiting for ketchup to pour, Ryan sped on ahead and I held back. I wandered around and then he called at some point and we joined up again. The new year had already arrived in New York and we were getting poised for midnight's approach. I think we were at Treasure Island or something, so the plan was to wade back through the syrupy crowd toward the Bellagio, which seemed the obvious place to ring in the new year (plus a group of girls Ryan had introduced himself to said they might be there). As we walked back, the jumbo trons were doing a countdown every 10 minutes or so... I don't see why the casinos don't just have a New Years themed hotel where the countdown is constantly going!

When midnight came, the Strip was aglow with with fireworks. And we met a group of people due to some dispute... I think once again over some guy referring to another's sexual orientation. The group said to meet them at a local pub, so we headed back to our car to join them. I'm bad with names, but I remembered one girl was named Britain, "like the country," she said.

Unfortunately, they wouldn't let us move the car for four hours or so since the road was blocked, so we were committed to walking the streets of Vegas. Oh sure, we considered taking the bus, but after a half hour, we decided the bus was never coming. And we tried to hail cabs, but they don't like obscenities shouted at them. So along with other disenfranchised tourists, we walked the wide avenues to our destination. I think we walked past an airport or some such, and it took along time to get past it. The bar was "a few blocks away," but they forget to tell you that blocks are a mile long.

When we made it to the Crown and Anchor Pub, it was 1 or 2 am, and I thought we'd missed everything. BUT NO! There's no such thing as last call in Vegas it seems. So we drank some brew, and talked to folks into the wee hours. I remember several people from Nevada, some from Australia or something, and another from the Philippines or so. All were good hearty folk. And everyone got their New Years kiss or two, even Uber-Chick. When pre-dawn arrived and it seemed that things were winding down, we decided that we certainly weren't going to walk back to our car, so the good people of Vegas called us a cab.

As the sun came up during our cab ride home, Ryan and I realized that we were still alive. The terrorists hadn't killed us all with nerve gas or anything! Yeah!

Well, it's the New Year and 'moderation' is my new thing. People look at me and say... 'moderation.'

'There goes Shane--he's a guy who sure knows when he's had enough to have a good time.'

Ah, yeah...Happy New Year everyone!