“Casino”

Day: 103

“Casino.” That’s all I said over the screaming radio, 45 minutes into the first day driving Skittles across the country. Casino Morongo was coming up like a spire in the California desert. Matt, who was next to me asleep, opened his eyes trying to see if I was serious, Chad and Aaron glanced back thinking the same thing. I just grinned as we pulled in the right lane, set ourselves a twenty minute gambling limit (we still had to make it to Arizona to meet our friend Kris) and wandered into Bloody Mary’s and blackjack.

Twenty four minutes later when the dealer went to reshuffle, I was up $75 with half a cocktail in front of me (complete with an assortment of vegetables) and Aaron was reaching for his wallet to pull out another $40..

“We need to leave now…” I said it, but my heart wasn’t in it, I was hoping to be out voted by the team. I wasn’t. We cashed out and made for the highway heading east.

After a quick $4 (no student discount!) stop at the General Patton museum in the middle of the desert, where we learned about desert fighting and the advent of the tanks in battle, I passed out in the back seat for a few hours as we flew through the endless sand.

Arriving in Phoenix we found Kris’s place, started to mix ourselves a few celebratory drinks (hey, we made it through the first day without getting pulled over) and made plans for a scandalous evening. From here on out the night got rather blurry, but I powered through, hitting all the Arizonan girls (no offense, but most of the girls were rather rude to us), and documenting the whole thing with my camera. We hit three or four bars (all across the street from the apartment we where in) and ate some burgers for dinner at a standard American chain restaurant with endless fries.

During dinner, sitting on a bar stool, my camera in one hand and my chicken sandwich in the other I leaned back slightly and suddenly my precarious perch had gone beyond that precious balancing point and I was plummeting backwards towards the ground, camera hand shooting into the air and dropping my honey mustard covered dinner back in its basket. The camera was fine and my sandwich was still edible but my ass was going to be sore in the morning. Feeling thoroughly schooled in the physics of this particular chair, but still lacking my balance, I thought I was now in complete control on my dining experience; right… Within minutes, with everyone watching, I somehow managed to topple backwards for a second time, laughing my bruised ass off the whole was down. Ouch. Although the kicker came when the bartender (who had been standing there for this whole episode) poured me another cocktail.

The night was a wash with booze, mean women, and random Phoenix-ite company and I found my beautiful piece of floor just after three AM. Great start to this next leg.