Date posted: May 28, 2007

The Road to Las Vegas

You arrive at your hotel at around 6 pm. Driving has made you a little high or was it the speed?

You had been looking forward to this. The drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas on the Interstate 15 is almost a religious experience. A long line of cars, bumper to bumper, all moving at 80 or 90 m/ph. The same landscape for hours on end. And then suddenly in the middle of nowhere, Las Vegas.

When you left Los Angeles it had been cold and drowsy. But already in Barstow it was hot and sunny. Now that you’re in Las Vegas it’s even hotter. Even at 6 pm. Tomorrow morning you will have to get up early, very early, if you want to make some photos outside.

By the time you reached Barstow you desperately needed to pee. You had parked your car near a Wendy’s. Two girls in mini skirts had got out of the car next to you. They looked as hot as Barstow at around noon on a day late in May. But you didn’t have time to pay much attention. You needed to find a bathroom. Fast.

In Barstow you had retraced some memories. The motel you had stayed in. The diner where you had argued. It was an argument about nothing. That’s what you thought. She had disagreed. That’s probably why you argued.

Somewhere between Barstow and Baker a piece of debris had sprung up from the road and smashed into your windscreen. It all happened in a split second. You realize that your trip could have ended right there. You tell yourself that there is more debris in the right than in the left lane. You don’t know whether this is true. You have to tell yourself something. Most accidents happen in and around people’s homes. That’s another thing you tell yourself. You’ll take care not to slip when you take a shower the next morning.