Guaranteed to melt five pounds in four days…
I drove to Pittsburgh Friday afternoon along the mountains and ridges of WV and PA buffeted by 50-60 mph wind gusts. Also talked to Jeff, who was a little loopy on pain medication because he threw his back out or maybe he just felt like it. I should have known…
United is always on time, thank you Lord and Lady. Their food sucks. Really sucks. About 45 minutes outside of Denver, Nanner woke from a peaceful slumber to find herself in a cold sweat yet burning up, dizzy, disoriented, wondering how she could possibly be airsick, having flown thousands of miles in her lifetime and having never experienced airsickness, causing her to remove her coat, and then to reach up to turn the air on, which then caused her to pass out and (since Vince wants all of the embarrassing details), then violently expectorate the contents of her stomach onto herself.
That’s a nice way of saying I passed out and puked my guts up on Flight 447.
I wrote that in third person because then it seems less real that this was the beginning of my trip and I was suddenly sick. Very sick, of yes, I was a very sick Peach. The angels of Flight 447 (one particular stewardess, my two seat mates, the lady across the aisle, and one gentleman who I have no idea who he was), who helped me clean up and who graciously gave me, yes, GAVE ME, clothing to wear for the rest of the flight and who didn’t yell and scream that I just puked beside of them and just gave everyone a royal send-off.
After arriving in Denver, wandering like a lost child, I managed to find the smoking lounge where I received a Sprite.
On the flight to Las Vegas, my seat mate faired better, as there was a seat between us and he wanted nothing to do with the pale, sickly looking blonde, curled up in the fetal position, belching and moaning into a barf bag for the duration of the flight. I’m sure the women who shared the bathroom facilities with me at McCarren International following my flight were as equally disgusted by my retching as I was.
I’m certain that my continued sickness through the night up to the 4 a.m. insanity which marked the end of violent expectorations (from both ends by this time… since Vince wants ALL the embarrassing details) may have been overlooked by those in Building E of the Circus Circus Manor rooms, leaving the Peach with at least one shred of dignity for her remaining hours in Sin City (but none here of course.)
The previous night, an employee of the adjacent campground had tipped me off that directly behind my building was a general store and a laundry. There is a KOA campground at Circus Circus. This, I shall always remember, because it means, “LAUNDRY FACILITY.” After sucking down 20 ounces of water, twice the amount of Gatorade, a banana, and napping for two hours, I trudged back to wash my clothes, twice. After drying my clothes, I went back to my room and slept some more. Still, when I awoke it was only 2:00, so I took a cab to the bead store, or what I thought was the bead store I wanted. It wasn’t. Pissed off that I had spent that amount on a cab, I began walking and walking and walking.
Again, I wandered, for 40 years in a vast desert, or, maybe it was Polaris or Industrial, odd names for a desert, until the shining mecca of Bethlehem, no it was a Mirage, appeared, and I hailed a camel, I mean, taxi, back to the Big Top. I went up to see my friends, Kim and Matt, and then went downstairs to see about the Haunted Las Vegas tour, bought a ticket, went back to the KOA grocery and bought cereal and milk, went back to my room, ate two bowls of Frosted Flakes, then had another shower and another nap, this in addition to the four showers I had already taken and the two naps because showers and naps are good.
I can’t remember what temperature it was in my room when I arrived but each time it was unsatisfactory. I kept the temp at either 60 or 70, and if it was 60, I wanted it 70, if it was 70, I wanted it 60. Sickness does that to you.
Next up…. Haunted Las Vegas