We pulled into Vegas around three and sat with our bags in the lobby while Samantha waited to check in. The room was reserved under her name and we fully planned on fitting five more people in the room than the hotel knew about. A man in a wrinkled uniform sat next to the elevators, a sign told us to show him our hotel keys before going up to the room. A nerve shot through my stomach as I saw this until I looked at the man's face. Tired eyes sunk above a disenchanted nose, desensitized from the path of hookers and big women from the south, those who were either on their way to make money or lose it big. The poor man could barely care about six dirtbags using the hotel for a cheap place to crash during spring break, but not enough to say anything as we pass, loaded down with backpacks and sleeping bags.
A strange energy seemed to guide us south on I-15. We were at the crossroads of two powerful vectors, one coming from the red walls in the east and the other streaming through countless filaments on its path from the north. The actual intersection was probably somewhere in the west lobby or on the casino floor next to the blackjack tables. The tension was strong, more of a film that I wasn't quite willing to cross. I wasn't ready for the absurd labyrinth in the neuropathways of this place's collective cognition. The circuits were all loaded with a unique current that flowed through endless copper over countless miles of red sand and sagebrush. A straight shot to a dead end that eats anything that enters, only letting those out who have given all excesses of energy and money. The hotel itself was second rate, or maybe third or fourth. I know of the extravagance of suites and limos that sat so close. The difference, only the plastic hotel key. At some point, it seems, everything must die. The black summer days flood in through the heavy drapes, drawn until three in the afternoon.
We are not in summer though, it is only spring and the air is light with the breeze of chance, of fortune. We have not yet come to the hot and heavy days that crowd this place most of the year. We still have hope. I hope to find it in Red Rocks.
The city itself is strange in its contrast. The strip itself, which we sat on the north end, was fantastically mystical. What I found truly interesting was what is found directly on the other side of the strip. Vacant lots strewn with garbage and junky cars. Dust swirls up in the wind and obscures the endless desert. The price of a square inch just a block over? priceless. The price behind the huge casino? nothing.
Spring break has always been a time to rest the soul and take a much needed break from the academic setting and the hectic realities of life. In the city I wouldn't find it. We would have to drive fifteen miles west to the red sands and endless rock walls of Red Rocks Canyon.
We would climb during the day, drive back to the hotel, and go out on the strip at night. This wasn't anything like the seven day camping / climbing trip in Indian Creek that we took a couple years ago. I soon realized that I was not finding the tranquility and rest that I had so greatly desired. The city wouldn't allow it. The city is a dream, a fiction.
First of all, there are outdoor escalators. And needless to say, Samantha and I get really excited about outdoor escalators. Here we are, riding one.
The lights and massive scale appealed to my need for visual stimuli, and I was lost... not in myself but in a crazy story that never seemed to end.
We imagined that we held the key to a high level suite on the top floor of an expensive hotel. And then we would walk in and the difference was obvious. We didn't care about the things the people inside cared about. I don't think they were looking for tranquility in the night clubs and endless casino floors.
So much excess!
What I found very interesting was the ceiling in many of the casinos, here is a picture.
Nope, not real. One night I was completely exhausted, it was close to one o'clock and no one seemed to notice. We walked into the casino in Paris and suddenly it felt like it was the middle of the afternoon. It was strange, a complete shift in reality. Vegas is a dream, and it makes our normal lives feel like the completely concrete.
My soul did not find rest. Not until the fourth day when we went back into Black Velvet canyon was I able to find some solace. Here, about a mile from the wall we came upon a little pool. For a little reference, the wall on the left side of the photo is over 2000 feet tall. This place is absolutely surreal. And I was finally at rest. I took a breath, a true breath for the first time in months.
Then it was back to life in Bozeman. We drove back in one big push and arrived to bitter winds and snow. uggh. This class has been the same way. I have found solace and depth in a lot of the themes and texts of this class. But it started and ended with chaos and confusion. Our lives are surely dreams, sometimes it just takes a journey to realize that.
Thanks for the great semester everyone, and have a great, restful summer!
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