Day Three of the Vegas Vacation:

After three days in Vegas, I have to say that Nevada DOT are a bunch of fuckin’ morons. None of the major roads out here have painted lanes. They are those lines that tell you when you can pass, when you cannot pass, where the turn lanes are, and where the edge of the lane is located. They have reflectors that are their to help guide you in lieu of painted lanes, but most of the roads here appear to have been recently tarred or resurfaced. So, those reflectors are of little usefulness.

I have enjoyed being about utterly useless, and spending time either at the bar, or hanging with M and J. Plus, I have become quite good at Wii Sports. God, Nintendo has created an entertain console that is superior to the Xbox 360 and the PS3. Yes, I know the tech geeks, and the respected fanboys of each console will try to rake me over a great number of hot coals, but I don’t care. The Wii is more fun, it gets you off the couch, and makes you to become an active part of the game. Also, it is a great way to socialize with people.

The plan last night was to go to a local jazz/blues place. But that fell through pretty quickly. This place was a part of an industrial park and tucked away from the major thoroughfare. There were only two cars at this place at 9pm. One was an El Camino with rust spots on it that appeared to be older than M, J, and myself. The other car appeared to be new, until you saw the numerous bondo patches on it. The smell of the place reeked through the car windows. It looked like a place where drug deals went down, and where a police report about a nefarious crime would describe in its opening words. So, we decided to skip it and go back to Double Down.

One of the fun things about a place of Double Down is that all types of people decide to show up. A group of five people (3 males and 2 females) showed up shortly after we did. You can tell by their manner of dress that they were tourists. They ordered 5 bacon martinis. Yes, you heard me right. A bacon martini. I am drunkard, and willing to try most any alcohol beverage, but martinis and bacon are two things that should never mix. Call me old fashion if you like. At the exact same time these brave souls were ordering said drinks, there was a clip from the Travel Channel regarding Double Down. It was was rather surreal to see this footage between the previews of B-rate horror / sex films, and the All-Star game.

15 innings! I think that it was the second longest All-Star game in terms of innings, and the longest one in terms of time. When we got to Double Down, it was in the 11^th. God, I feel for the National League, because they have lost 12 All-Star games in a row. It was fun (at least to me; I cannot speak for J) answering M’s questions about baseball. Plus, I was having fun trading baseball trivia with the locals. One of them, who appeared to be a cheap knock off of Vince Vaughn’s character from “Swingers” asked me about where I came from dressed in the shirt that I had on. I had on a green short-sleeved shirt that looked like it came from a Tiki Bar. (A small aside, I miss watching TikiBar TV and seeking Lala. God, she is smokin’!) I told where I came from, the great state of Georgia. The Vince wannabe started making comments about Georgia Peaches, such as damn them or they all make good wifes. The last thing that I wanted to do on a Tuesday night was to argue with a drunken washed up 40 something white dude in a dive bar in Las Vegas. So, I brushed him off with a few jokes about Georgia Peaches, and moved promptly to where M and J were at the bar.

I know when I get back to Georgia (and not on the midnight train), there will be a number of people that will be disappointed with me because I did not do one (or more) of the following:

1. Drink myself into a stupor,
2. find a female tourist and have a booty call with her,
3. Gamble half of my checking and savings account away and have nothing to show for it,
4. Go to a brothel, or
5. Go some other cliché associated with a vacation in Vegas.

To those people, I repeat my earlier disclaimer: Go Fornicate Yourself. If you are too stupid to know what that means, please let me make myself more plain, Fuck you. I am enjoying taking it easy and not having to worry that my vacation is not living up to some hedonist quota set forth by people that really don’t give a damn about me.

Day Two of the Vegas Vacation:

It was once said somewhere by someone that travel was a means to reconnect with one’s self. The draw of Vegas is not that. The lure of this town in the valley is to lose one’s self in its omnipresent decadence.

I don’t want to lose myself in a sea of booze, sex, and rock-n-roll. Hell, I can do that in Atlanta in one of the strip clubs or find someone on-line on Adult Friend Finder in my local area.

The purpose of my trip here is to reconnect with me. I know this touchy-feely claptrap is not your usual style of verbal prose from yours truly. Yet, I am consumed by a feeling that something has gone wrong with my development as a man. But, if you are reading this, you really don’t want to hear me whine or be all emo about my current state of affairs. You would be more interested in what I have been doing here.

Well, day two was a little more relaxed than day one. I spend most of the day reading a book on cross examination the patio of my host’s apartment, and listening to music on my iPod. Later in the day, I got the digital camera and took some random photos when traveling around town with M and J. I did not want to take pictures of Vegas at night. Most people do that already, and most establishments will not let take my digital camera in with me. Remember this thing is a digital SLR and not a simple point and shoot. In addition, my brother said that I take pictures of places and things and not of people. So, I took some pictures of random people on the street. It was funny seeing the sense of bewilderment on my subjects’ faces. Yet, the highlight of the day was finding Double Down Saloon.

Double Down Saloon is the anti-thesis of Vegas. It ain’t glamorous. It is bar that is not connected with the “Strip,” where all the tourists are at. It is tucked away amongst other buildings that are there for the locals. The place was small. It could hold at best about 100 people. It had graffiti and punk art all over the place. The two things that made me love this place at first glance was 1.) the bumper sticker that said, “I ♥ Mormon Pussy,” and the wooden sign that said, “Hippies. Use the back door.” Another thing that endeared this place to me was the $20 puke insurance and the house rule of if you puke it up, then you clean it up. This place had only two TVs in the place playing an assortment of indie cartoons of vile nature, concert footage from bands like GWAR and Madness, and other assorted spoofs on pop culture. The place was cash bar. No credit cards, no checks. This was a true dive bar. The people that were in there were obviously locals from the punk scene, if there is one in Vegas. Tattoos, piercings, and trucker hats were the staples of this place. It was nice to be in a place that was real and authentic.

One thing about places like Double Down is that they usually have a house drink that is the stuff of legend, hype, or terror. Double Down was no different. They have a drink called “Ass Juice.” The bartender refused to tell you what was in it. He would tell us that if you were allergic to alcohol, then we should not have any of it; also, he told us it had to be strong, it had to look like shit, and it had to taste good. All we can tell about this “Ass Juice” was a dark red, like blood, and not brown like the stuff comes out of your ass. M and I contemplated over taking a shot. J made fun of us of asking about it, but hesitating about drinking it. About four beers later, M and I had a shot of “Ass Juice.” It was sweet, fruity, and not what I was expecting. I was expecting a drink that would be bitter, sour, rancid, or just plain wretched.

The night ended at a local bar near M and J’s place called PT’s. It was a cool place. Good beer, good food, and the bartender was quite hot, despite her after-market enhancements to her original frame. I spend time talking with M about a lot of things and just enjoying the down time.

Oddly enough, by doing these anti-Vegas things, I am reconnecting with myself. Plus, I think I am getting used to the time change. I am only taking naps for about thirty minutes, and not two hours. I cannot wait to see what tonight brings.