|Across from the Flamingo|
Plane travel is awful. Even getting on the place is awful. But once I'm in my seat, I can pull out a book or my iPad and forget that I'm squeezed into a flying metal tube overstuffed with other people. When I'm being driven back and forth and hither and yon in a strange city*, I can read my way into something much more interesting and make the time go a little faster. I've done this—read while traveling—for as long as I can remember. Years ago, on a family trip when I was a teen, I read The Stand on the way from Wisconsin back to western Washington. I loved to read the scenes set on the Great Plains as I was driving across them myself. I've never had quite the same synchronicity since then.
|At Caesar's Palace|
I did wander around a little, and hiked about a third of the strip yesterday morning before the temperature started to climb. It was a surreal experience to find myself in Venice, then ancient Rome, and then Paris, all within a couple of blocks. It was like wandering a movie lot or Jasper Fforde's Well of Lost Plots. No wonder Vegas does so well. It's basically fiction come to life.
Ah, it's good to be home, where the only surrealness is between a pair of book covers where it belongs.
* The driver of the airport shuttle bus today drove like he was handling the thing like it was the Knight Bus.
** I'm not sure what the real collective noun for librarians is. I really wish it was an index of librarians or a bibliography of librarians.