Wow, it’s been two weeks and I’m just now getting to posting about vacation. That’s unacceptable. But I haven’t slowed down since leaving on this trip and life is just barely calming the hell down, so let’s get started!
Derik and I are huge fans of the video game, Fallout: New Vegas. We both consider it an exceptional work of art and have our own lore and inside jokes and know just about every easter egg or trivia question based on the game that you could ever ask. I actually made this trip in 2014 with Henri (that post was eaten when I moved back from my other blog) so I was a seasoned adventurer on the Road to Vegas. I had a few special things in mind for when we got there–but let’s just start at the beginning: getting there.
US SR 93
Salt Lake City very famously leads to Vegas through the simplicity of I-15, (or as it’s known in the game, “The Long 15”.) However, possessed by some strange hatred of the interstate, I chose back in 2014 to take Nevada State Route 93, the old highway. I think that I’m a backroads kind of girl–what better way to experience Americana and follow the footsteps of those first travelers before interstates became the norm in the late 50’s? The last time I drove it, I didn’t even enter Nevada until 7pm, oops, so most of the drive was in darkness. This time I had the pleasure of seeing everything, from the sleepy town of Ely to the gorgeous, eerily quiet Humboldt National Forest, in the hot Mojave sun. I have to stop here and say again just how gorgeous and strange I find the Great Basin and Mojave deserts. I’ve lived in so many different landscapes but this one will always be my favorite. It’s just a huge, vast wasteland. So alien, so strange. I feel right at home in it and out of place all at once.
So, like I said, the first time I made this trip I saw what little scenery I could spy via moonlight. This time I had a chance to really enjoy the surroundings. I wasn’t disappointed. Creepy rest stops and old forgotten diners and hotels and rv camps that look straight up full of murderers and murdees. Some of them even had very inviting open gaping doors. I was dying to stop at every single one and take nine thousand Instagram-perfect hashtagabandonedporn photos, but Derik pulled the “we’re going to get murdered” card each time. He’s so unadventurous. We took a handgun with us on the trip and I just remember that my rebuttal to everything, the entire trip was, “but we have a gun!”
Still, no dice, (haha get it that’s a gambling pun) and I had to see most things by car, other than of course the one public bathroom we DID stop at–somehow deemed safe by Mr. Navajo Boring Face, had THE SIGN ON THE DOOR WARNING TO WATCH OUT FOR RATTLESNAKES. I didn’t think I’d ever pee in there. And I honestly might not ever pee in peace, in any public/camping grounds restroom, ever again.
A Different Road Warrior?
At some point we turn off onto another state route and I, being passenger for a time by then, was daydreaming when Derik slams on the brakes and pulls me out of la-la land. His exact words? “WAS THAT A FUCKING DILDO ON THE ROAD?” I laughed, thinking he was joking, but he literally brought my little Fiesta to a halt (from 50mph or so) and threw it in reverse. Then a sight I’ll never forget: Derik, head out the window, looking in the side rearview mirror, laughing hysterically and periodically going “IT IS! OH MY GOD IT IS!”
Yours truly was the real scientific investigator here, though, naturally. And no I am not posting more hilarious and up close photos on the blog, of the dildo. They are totally on my Instagram though. What’s a trip to Vegas without a road dildo?
Part one ends with us arriving, blissfully tired, excited and and looking forward to a cold motel bedroom, in New Las Vegas. It was a breezy 115 degrees Fahrenheit at approximately 1030pm, and we headed toward the Strip. I had, months before, booked the Super 8 on the Strip–which was where I stayed for the last New Vegas tour. Imagine my surprise when I go to check in and they tell me, flippantly, that there are no rooms left. I was like, “Okay, that’s great for you and I’m happy 4 u and imma let u finish…but I have a reservation.” I pull out my phone and show the obviously booked receipt. Desk girl is confused. Manager guy is even less impressed. He informs me that my reservation was through a third party company (booking.com) and that it wouldn’t be honored because “they overbook us all the time.”
“So you’re telling me that you have no room for me despite me having a reservation.”
“You have to call the third party company.”
“But you guys” specifically SUPER 8 MOTEL “have already taken the money from my account.”
“Call third party company.” Not even joking, his English was that fucking lazy.
Join me next time for the underwhelming cliffhanger ending to this miserable wrench in the gear!