Chapter Eleven
Al Gets a Tattoo
May 4, 2009—Tehachapi to Vegas: This was the day for us to transition from a cold, desolate mountain campsite to the glitz, the glamour, and the $10 cranberry martinis of Las Vegas.
Our day started at 6 AM with a howling wind still shaking the tent. In the morning I noticed that I'd tattooed my pants with a grease-stain image of my bike’s chainring while opening the trunk with the bikes attached (it's possible, but stressful for the trunk). Note to self: Next time, get a roof rack.
We did a quick breakdown and pack up and had Gunilla lead us into Tehachapi’s ultimate small-town locals coffee shop. Great service and good food.
The current owners purchased it in 1952, three weeks before it was destroyed by the Tehachapi earthquake, and then rebuilt it.
We had a good tailwind as we headed through the pass. In classic cowboy-style desert at this point, we were literally counting the miles to the first rest area which had (heavenly choir music here) showers! We hadn’t bathed for a few days of gritty grimy smokey camping, and were Jonesing for some clean up (especially Lena).
Today, most Americans crave a shower after only a day or two of not bathing, but it hasn’t always been that way. Prior to the fifth century or so, bathing was common in public baths. However, because the baths were often associated with prostitution and general debauchery, the Christian church blew a whistle and said “OK, everybody out of the pool!”
In addition, medical authorities of the time warned that water on the skin let diseases in. So lower class citizens essentially stopped bathing altogether, while the rich guys bathed only a few times a year. King Louis XIV of France and Queen Isabel I of Spain each bathed only twice in their lives.
It wasn’t until the 1900s that the doctors said “Well, um, we take it back. We should have said bathing prevents disease, not causes it.” But in the early 1900s, people still bathed only once per week. So why is it that after missing only a day or two of showering, we start to crave it so much? It’s probably psychological. A few times I’ve said, “I sure feel grungy ‘cause I haven’t showered for a few days,” then I’ll remember that I did, in fact, just take a shower. I then feel fresh and clean again.
When we got to this magical rest area that had showers, it was closed. Lena had a lot to say about this, and it was cute since she's never really gotten the hang of swearing in English. Her swearing consists of all the bad English words she knows strung together, including the words “fart” and “throw up.”
After a nice napinator nap, Lena recovered from her annoyance, and we finally came to a nice rest area which, although it didn’t have showers, allowed us to clean up. We fired up the Pepsi can stove for some stir-fry chicken.
Gunilla then took our hands and led us right to the door of the Sahara hotel and casino in Vegas. Our room was only $24 ($36 with all the sneaky add-on fees and taxes). If the newest hotel were Angelina Jolie, this hotel would be Joan Rivers, with a little Carrot Top thrown in. I guess that’s what you’d expect from something that was built in 1952. We had to wait in a long line to check in, the service was mediocre, and the rooms were “faded,” but boy, was it great to take a long shower.
I carried the bikes in one at a time using the old “walk with purpose, look like you know what you are doing, don't make eye contact” trick. I had no idea whether bikes were allowed in the rooms, and I didn’t want to find out. Since then we’ve often taken our bikes into hotels, and no one has ever objected.
It's actually a pretty long trek from four levels up in the garage, down the elevator, then through the casino and lobby, and up 22 levels in the hotel elevator. Multiple trips were necessary. Score some points for camping.
After sampling the exercise room on the 27th floor, we took a dip in the warmest pool I’ve ever encountered. It wasn’t refreshing, but if it was good enough for the Rat Pack, it was good enough for me.
We'd planned to pick up some coupon books which essentially allow you to do some gambling with other people's money. For example, you can use a match play coupon to get an additional $10 when you win. So, Lena could play odd on the roulette and I could play even, so we’d make at least $10.
However, we were told that because of traffic, we didn't have time to drive the 10 blocks to the coupon place before 5 PM, and that we couldn't walk there. So we didn't do any gambling.
I’ve found that “walking” is a foreign concept to most Americans. The average human walking speed is 3.1 MPH, meaning it takes 20 minutes to walk a mile. Ask for directions to someplace that’s a mile away, however, and you’ll invariably get the response, “Oh, you’re walking? Oh no, no, no, you can’t walk there.” Unfortunately, often they’re right, not because it’s too far, but because the roads are just unwalkable: narrow, debris-filled shoulders that make passing motorists say “Oh, look at that poor homeless man.”
After another shower, we got dressed up like tourists, and headed down to “the strip.” If you picture elegant people walking around town having fun gambling, then you have the wrong channel. Mostly what you see are overweight tourists from Milwaukee in shorts and dark socks sitting in a trance in front of slot machines.
You see some movie-star types, but so few that when they appear you say “Wow, look at that!”
We had a great dinner at Circus Circus and watched a pathetic ten-minute circus act consisting of a girl hanging from, and messing around in, a hula-hoop. She was very good, but there's only so much you can do hanging from a hula hoop. She was accompanied by a keyboard player and drummer who seemed disappointed with the direction their musical careers had taken. Over 150 people wanted us to see all-day presentations on time shares in exchange for a free show. No thanks.
We probably walked four miles altogether. It was less glamorous and flashy than I'd expected. I'd wanted to be overwhelmed with the waste of electricity of the flashing lights. But Lena enjoyed it, and it fulfilled her need to “see Vegas.”
We headed back to the hotel and promptly fell asleep.