Woo hoo! I haven't done anything major on the site in a long time. I wanted to put some pictures of our vacation up, and I wanted to use googlepages to do it, but they currently limit you to 100 pictures, and I recognize that to limit myself to a hundred measly pictures would be doing a disservice to what's left of my constant readers. So, glass of wine in hand--actually, since I need both hands to type, it's on a coaster--I'm sitting down to document our recent road trip.
There were two reasons for the trip: a) brother Gary bought a new house in Carson City, NV, and we wanted to see it; and b) Leisa's watched the movie "Sideways" one too many times and wanted to go to the wineries in Santa Barbara. Throw in the fact that my cousins, Lisa and Barry, live between Carson and Buellton, and we have a full-blown road trip.
The travelers are me, your humble webmaster; my foxy young wife, Leisa; daughter Brittany and her best friend, Sarah; and a cute little white dog. The presence of Sparky! necessitated dog-friendly motels, which were generally Best Westerns and Motel 6's, or "crapshacks" as the children called them. It was a family vacation, and Sparky! is part of the family, so he comes along. I however, am grateful that these chains recognize that people travel with pets. Now if only the federal government would realize that during evacuation situations. Impeach Bush. Indict the rest. It's a different website in 2006, and I'm no longer going to refrain from partisan politics. Okay, that's out of my system!
After much discussion, we decided to take Leisa's car, the Xterra, primarily because of the presence of the roof rack. Three chicks means a lot of luggage, and since the back is tiny, it has to go on the roof. And because we're going to the wine country, and potentially coming back with enough wine to float the Bismark, we need the space in the back as free as possible. I bought a waterproof luggage cover, and after a little bit of maneuvering, got it situated on the roof, and the luggage inside.
On Friday, before we left, I received an envelope in the mail, with this photograph:
That's our front porch in 1930 or so. On the left is John Kerr Jr., and on the right is his sister, Caroline. You can find more details here. I decided I needed a NOW picture to match to the THEN picture.
Sixty percent of our travelers, Sarah (left), Brittany, and Sparky! Xterra loaded and ready to depart (an hour later than planned) in the background.
Our first stop on the trip was to be Vegas, an easy 6 or 7 hours from Phoenix. We stopped to check out the Boulder/Hoover dam. [Leisa says to-may-toe, I say to-mah-toe.]
Arizona side.
Nevada side. It used to be that there were places all over where you could pull off and take pictures, but terrorists and construction have ruined that. It used to be that you could see all the way to the base.
They're building a new bridge, away from the dam ["Eh, heh. Excuse me. Is that a God-dam." Beavis] to pull traffic off the top of the thing. Too easy to drive a truckload of explosives over there. Our car was inspected several miles before we got to the dam. If the option continues to exist to cross the top of the dam after the bridge is built, I'll take it. The bridge is just way to up there. It's impossible to tell from the photos, but it's like a mile above the river bottom. Seriously.
After leaving Boulder Dam, it was a short trip on to Vegas, where we checked in to our spacious Best Western accommodations. Leisa was hungry, and wanted pizza--good pizza--and I was quick to accommodate. Or at least I tried. I got the phone book out, but in a strange city, 2300 Flamingo Rd. is the functional equivalent of 8900 Boulder Highway. I had no idea where anyplace was in relation to us, or any other place. In other words, the phone book was useless, except for the fact that there appeared to be a pizza place three blocks from our motel. Except when we drove by, it looked like it was in a casino. And when we drove back by later, we further noted that the casino appeared to be boarded up. So we decided to just drive around. Surely there'll be a pizza place somewhere within a few minutes.
The "few minutes" turned into forty five. We'd see one place, but it was take-out only, or it looked like someplace I wouldn't consider if it was the last pizza place on the planet. We drove and drove and drove, until we finally found a pizza place in a power center, next to a Home Depot. It was the worst, blandest pizza we could have found. And such small portions! We ate, then headed back to the motel so Leisa could take a nap, and I could take the kids to Adventuredome at Circus Circus.
We first rode the bumper cars, but that didn't provide Brittany with enough excitement. It was on to the pirate boat.
The kids headed up the stairs.
And the ride was in motion.
Lest anyone think I'm an artsy photographer, put that thought to rest. I didn't remember to reset the ISO on my camera from 100 to 1600, so I could shoot in low light. It still looks kinda cool though, doesn't it?
From the pirate boat, B and I headed to the roller coaster. We were in Vegas several years ago, and she refused to go on the roller coaster, which has two loops and a corkscrew. Tonight, it was a different matter. Brittany went on it and loved it. And went again and again and again. Sarah declined the invitation to accompany her, and held my camera on the ground, hence, the lack of rollercoaster pictures.
Sarah did decide she'd go on the water ride, though, and she and Brittany hopped in line. The sign above their heads says this is a "very wet ride." We'll see.
They're barely visible in the window, below.
The boat departs, then returns.
And two happier riders can't be found! Nor two wetter riders. They pronounce it, indeed, a "very wet ride!"
They rode the boat several more times, then we returned to the motel so they could change. We headed to the Fremont Street Experience. Basically, Fremont Street is where all the old, rundown casinos are. Several years ago, they decided to spruce the place up by closing off the street, covering it with a roof that has a million LEDs, and is capable of displaying movies, and making it a "destination" in Chamber-of-Commerce-Speak. We got there shortly before the 10pm show. Lights went out. Music came on, as well as some animated cars driving. It lasted eight minutes. The lights came up. We had 52 minutes to share with the street vendors, hawking temporary tattoos and cheap jewelry. [In all fairness, we were there on a Sunday. We were told they have live bands on Friday and Saturday, and it's a little more lively on those nights.]
We left Fremont St., and headed down the strip to see the lights. The girls repeated the same question, over and over, as they saw the cool hotels: "why can't we stay here, instead of the crapshack?" My answer: "if you only want the vacation to be a two-day vacation, without Sparky!, I'll be happy to book us in one of the 28 story motels. New York New York or the King Tut hotel from 'Beavis and Butt-head do America.'" We headed back to the crapshack, and to two of the most expensive beers I've ever had.
There was a small bar in the same building as the motel office, so Leisa and I headed across the parking lot to have a nightcap. We wandered into the bar, which had one other patron and a disinterested lady bartender. [The motel was on North Las Vegas Blvd., and visions of Hunter Thompson-esque pie-shop craziness haunted my thoughts.] Leisa ordered a Corona, and I a Bud draft. As she was ringing our beverages up, the barkeep noticed me feeding a dollar into the video blackjack machine at the bar. "You folks playing," she asked. "If you are, the drinks are complementary." Cool. She brought our drinks, and I continued to feed dollars into the machine. Another round came, and I continued to feed the machine with dollars. Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, we were done gambling, and the "complementary" beer was done, too. We wandered back across the parking lot and went to bed, with dreams of Day 2, and Area 51 in our heads.