LAS VEGAS & THE DESERT
Days 34-46
The plan was to spend 4-5 days in Las Vegas and then probably, depending on weather which could be a bit cold at this time of year, we would try and rent a camper van (RV) for a 1,300 mile drive through the deserts and national parks all the way to Denver, Colorado, dropping into Aspen along the way for our mini ski break.
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Well to say that plan did not quite work out is an understatement!!
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The first bit worked fine - we got into the USA with no problems. We landed in an almost empty plane (every flight in Latin American had been rammed) to an almost deserted airport, straight through immigration (no queue at all, compared to Fort Lauderdale where the queue was several hundred yards long, go figure), to find our baggage already there, to a taxi (also fixed fares, great system) - in 20 minutes from stepping off the plane. Never done an international airport quicker, especially coming into the USA where immigration can be a bit of a balls ache to say the least.
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Quick ride to our hotel, the Signature at the MGM Grand ($200 a night self catering apartment) where we had high hopes of a nice room. We'd been chatting on our trip and found a lot of people used Airbnb rather than Booking.com which we use almost all the time. So we'd fired up my years old account had a look on Airbnb and found this amazing apartment, only to cross-check on Booking.com - and lo and behold good old Booking was cheaper. The pics looked lovely, but we all know what a fish eye lens can do, estate agent style.
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One block south of The Strip, just along from the Bellagio. Up to the 28th floor, open the door, and WOW!!! We think we might have been upgraded because this place is gigantic, 80 sq meters, 900 square feet, big lounge/diner, fully fitted kitchen, big bedroom, a massive bathroom with jacuzzi bath and a spare bathroom, three TV's, yup, three! Let the video tell the story.....................
And to top it all it has a big balcony, which at 28 floors up makes me nervous when I lean over the rail. Not vertigo, just if Sara is behind me sort of nervous, joking, it is actually vertigo!. It's just that not many 30 story buildings have open balconies with quite low railings.
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We wander out for a walk around and get some supplies, red wine and beer, oh yes, and bread, butter, coffee, milk eggs, bacon and shit too. Back to the apartment and boy are we both whacked, must be the altitude and all that walking in Mexico City. Early night, that's what we need so that's what we have.
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Up early to find poor Sara still has a headache which has been around for a day or so. plus she is not feeling the full ticket. Cure - I am dispatched to the chemist to buy a bucket of salves and potions and hair products on the scientifically proven theory that a long hot bath in her new massive tub will sort her out.
No problem, but first a diversion to Planet 13 (www.planet13.com) to do some alternative shopping. In the State of Nevada cannabis is completely legal (there are some weird complications about where you can consume it but legal it is). Planet 13 is the Harrods of dope. Just off the strip, nicely busy, amazingly big, very well organised, very friendly. You get greeted at the door, asked if you have been before, if the answer is no, then you are allocated a consultant who takes you through the whole weird thing. Weird only insofar as they have thousands of products, literally thousands. Buds of hundreds of strains bred for every purpose under the sun, oils, resin, tinctures, vapes, pre-rolled joints, blunts, sweets, juices, beers. A bewildering array!! And desks for SEVENTY consultants, really, bloody 70 desks.
Nobody who last scored some 'weed' years ago would ever credit it. The last thing you asked when you dealt with a UK dope dealer was "Which strain is this my good chap?". "Can you tell me the ratio of THC/CBN and the Terpenes content? No?? Then be off with you, I shall take my drugs habit elsewhere and may even report you to the Weights & Measures for good measure". At least that is what I would say now I have seen the light and been 'consulted'. Fat lot of good it would do me in the UK. Here they would probably expect it.
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Anyway my scientific interest was to see if I could cure Sara's migraine headaches, and that is MY story and I am sticking to it!! It turns out that is what everyone says, but as I said, to it I am sticking. So I left the store £200 lighter but the proud owner of no less than four disposable vape sticks containing the 'migraine cures' of OG Kush and Rove Kush and for some reason I had Cookie Stomper and Jenny Cake as well (don't blame me, I don't name the daft things). The last two were bugger all to do with some fictional cure, they were to help me become a better person, a more relaxed and fully rounded personality, or some such gobbledygook, I had lost interest by that time, must have been the air in the place. Not enough to miss out on adding a six pack of cannabis infused juice though. At this point common sense kicked in and I left. I mean, how reserved and sensible am I? Just one big bag of two hundred quid's worth of dope, not two bags. That's me Mister SENSIBLE.
Back to the mansion on the 28th floor on this sunny Wednesday to find Sara even less the full ticket. You are guessing where this is going now aren't you? Yup, it's testing time.
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We wait until we have had dinner and a can of some sort of juice I found in the fridge, strangely relaxing it was, which was lucky in the rather stress inducing circumstances of watching some snot drenched fluid creep its way past the T and up to the C line. Good old C lines coming up a treat. But what is this I spy with my slightly wobbly eye, a faint red line on the T, Sara, darling, you might want to see this...............
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Well to be fair if you have to have Covid, have it in a massive self catering apartment with two bathrooms, big lounge and a kitchen where you are already booked for five nights. That is possibly the perfect outcome for making the best out of a bad job on holiday in a foreign country.
What would have been a right pain in the proverbial arse would have been to have failed the Antigen test on Monday in Mexico City where they temperature test bloody everyone, everywhere. We would probably have struggled to be allowed to book a flipping hotel, let alone the uncertain wait until we could pass a test to get into the USA.
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So we looked on the bright side. Sara seemed fine and I was negative (so far).
The picture on the right is us after we had done the test. Sara sad but not too bad, me in the clear but nervous. Note the juice!
Sadly Thursday dawned and poor Sara was very far from fine. A very hard day for my poor brave darling in so many different ways on which you really don't need me to elaborate. I went back on the streets to source copious quantities of rehydration fluids and Paracetamol plus other remedies and potions. Thankfully the tide turned by the evening and some sort of calm reigned. A bowl of Campbells Chicken Soup had been among the medicinal supplies and was duly pecked at, along with me nagging the patient to finish the first litre of rehydrating fluid.
The inevitable post mortem (sorry, bad choice of phrase, obviously Sara survived so not her post mortem) was held to decide who was to blame for infecting my poor wife and the blame fell on - you guessed it - the bloody cleansing by a big Aztec in the square. Go back to that video - Big Infectious Aztec. The only Mexican in the whole of Mexico City NOT wearing a mask!! Chanting non stop six inches from Sara's face for five or more minutes. And that is after he has breathed in the spit of some 500 previous clients that day alone. If anyone was infected he was. I blame myself of course. If only I had put my foot down and told Sara straight that she could NOT be cleansed!! I would probably still be nursing my poor swollen gonads and Sara would still be infected.
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Friday dawned sunny as ever and in Emergency Ward 10 things were on the up. The patient was sitting up in bed and making demands. I looked back on yesterday with fond memories of the total calm and quiet. I also looked back on this interminable drivel ands beg your understanding - what the hell was I supposed to do for two days other than sit and type rubbish????? I could hardly sneak out and go to a casino or a show or a bar or - I could go on but I won't. Suppose there had been a relapse, a sudden need for tea, a shortage of Twix? Proper doctor, proper husband.
Saturday Sara was a bit better but still a bit dodgy, so we booked another two days in our massive apartment and simply accepted that we were probably the only two tourists in Las Vegas who had spent our trip indoors 28 floors up.
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To be honest it has been amazingly relaxing for me (not quite so much for poor Saz) after a month and four countries, moving every day or two, to just chill, eat normal small portions of home cooked food, bring this diary up to date, drink wine, toke on a J (it is LEGAL for God's sake!), and lay by the pool. We are both astounded at how lucky we have been. If you HAVE to suffer Covid, then by golly this is the place to be!!!!!!!!!!!!
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We now have a Hyundai Santa Fe 4WD booked for Tuesday morning for nine days taking us all the way from here to skiing in Aspen then on to Denver for our flight to New Orleans and the Mardis Gras.
The R.V idea has gone out the window as it is too chilly in the desert at night (-5C) to faff around with that option. Hotel, warm bed, big warm car. That's more like it. We will miss that lovely tower right.
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Despite Sara's brush with Covid, and my courageous refusal to be infected, we did manage two trips out during our week, excluding my 50 trips to replenish pills, potions and red wine and my regular trips onto the balcony to try time and time again to see what the hell it is that attracts people to weed. I have to say it does nothing to me at all, except make me stagger about a bit and feel distinctly dis-combombulated, and I can do that with red wine thank you, without the added distinctive stink. And Sara said it GAVE her headaches, not cured them. So much for my foray into medical research! I'm not even going to bother to go on to try and cure cancer after this abject failure.
Of our two trips out, one was to Fremont Street, the alternative strip, where we had a nice wander round to get Sara's sea legs back, then the next day we went back to Fremont Street. Yes, we were staying a hotel just off the main strip and twice we got a cab to the far side of town to what is a downmarket alternative. We enjoyed several hours people watching. Way more fun than the zoo, which it pretty much resembled.
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The good news is that by the time we came to leave Sara had recovered, bit by bit with the occasional relapse, normally when it came to lugging rucksacks upstairs or down.
During her enforced confined-to-camp period when Sara was stuck by the lurgey she took to researching something SECRET. Who knows where this may lead but I kept getting negative feedback on the Miami, Bahamas, Puerto Rica plan. I am guessing we may not be going that way after all, who knows, least of all me.
So, it is finally time for ROAD-TRIP!!. we actually get issued a really nice 4WD, a GMC Terrain, a big bastard, ideal for desert sand and Aspen snow. Cheap enough at £90 a day for 9 days (the works included, CDW, extra insurance, nothing left to chance), comfy as hell, and powerful. We depart our lovely apartment/hospital ward after seven relaxing nights and head off into the desert.
A QUICK REMINDER OF WHY YOU ARE READING THIS DRIVEL MAY BE IN ORDER.
Because we have a deal, that's why! The deal, in case you need reminding. is that when we get back we promise not to bore you with any stories/photos/memories, on the understanding that if you have followed this diary (and can answer three simple confirmatory test questions correctly) then this trip need never be mentioned again. Deal??