I lied to you before

I lied about having witnessed the Pacific. It was just the bay. But now I have. Now I have stepped into it with my feet. It's warmer than the Atlantic. At least the Gulf of Maine Atlantic.

We have diverged from our original plan today. It was too late by the time we arrived to get a map of the Mojave Desert, and it was too dark to find anything on our own, so we stopped for dinner somewhere unworthy of note and then pressed on deep into the night until we reached Las Vegas. It took about five tries to find a motel with rooms, but we did, and we're in it now. I'm currently scamming free internet off them (they wanted five dollars) so I can write to you lovelies.

Jason crashed when we arrived, but Trefor and I wanted to see the place all lit up. We just walked the strip and then wandered through Excalibur and Luxor. It's exactly what you think. It's extravagant and cheap and full of people who are mostly either scummy, sad, or foreign.

I believe that the plan is to sleep now, then get up in the afternoon, check out of this place, into our casino-hotel (the Tropicana), and roll around all evening and night absorbing whatever this place has to offer. I'm hoping for cheap buffets and free shows. Then the next morning Trefor and I are off to Arizona or something and Jason gets himself flown back to New York. We'll be sad to see him go.


Postscript: Nevada, like Illinois, did not have a welcome sign.