When my alarm went off at 10, I scrambled to get my things together and get out by the hotel’s 11AM check-out time. I realize that I’m somewhat compulsive when it comes to gambling, and I lost a tiny bit of my previous night’s winnings at the same machine that had been so lucky the night before, ignoring the fact that lightning wouldn’t strike twice. Still, I left with enough to pay for a good chunk of this trip so far, so I don’t feel too bad.
I stopped at Jamba Juice—a violation of the rules, maybe, but I was tired and uncaffeinated—on my way to Jiffy Lube, since the Prius decided it needed an oil change before going any further. I made polite conversation with the cute but vapid UNLV coed in the waiting room, who, it turned out, was from Alaska, and a big fan of Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin.
I hadn’t had coffee for nearly 27 hours by the time I got out of there, so I spent the next hour driving around Las Vegas looking for something that wasn’t Starbucks, ultimately landing at a place in Paradise, Nevada, where I used their free wifi to find a room in Flagstaff for the night.
If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have stopped at the Hoover Dam for some sightseeing, but it was already getting late, so I pressed on toward Flagstaff. Once I reached the Motel 6, I was wiped out, but mustered the energy to find dinner at August Moon, voted the best Chinese restaurant in Flagstaff. Apparently, the quality of Chinese food at other establishments in Flagstaff must be quite low, because the food was average at best. They’ve got nothing on Yee Kee, the place around the corner from my house in Columbus.
I tried to ignore the constant traffic on I-40 and the hourly blasts from the trains that went by, falling into a sleep that wasn’t particularly restful.
