Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
keep Lina and my friends and family up to date, but also to connect with all the new friends
I met along the way.
After Kindness One and I left our street, it took about 45 minutes to work my way
through LA traffic before the road opened up and I found my stride. I thought of Dwight
as I rode, wishing that one day he would feel this exhilaration, the feeling that every cell
in his body was electrified with hope. Sure, I was once again leaving behind my life and
taking off into the sunset, and sure this was a totally insane idea with totally crazy possib-
ilities, but as the sun reflected off the desert sands around me and I watched two hawks fly
up ahead of me, the world had never looked more perfect.
I pulled over in The Mojave Desert, almost halfway to Vegas, as my gas tank was run-
ning low. There, I found another Good Samaritan, who filled me up in the scorching heat.
Back on the road we went, and before I knew it, I was standing next to the world-famous
Las Vegas sign. Welcome to Vegas, indeed.
I engaged in my first sinful act by parking the bike illegally, praying there were no park-
ing enforcement officers on the prowl. I guess you can't go to Vegas and be completely sin
free. The first person I approached, seeking a place to stay for the night, was Gene Sim-
mons. Okay, maybe not
the
Gene Simmons but a rather impressive lookalike. I thought for
sure such a renowned man of the bedroom might have one to spare. I was wrong. I was also
wrong about the three masked Mexican wrestlers. The afternoon was drawing to a close,
and I was getting desperate.
I walked down Fremont Street, where Vegas locals were rumored to hang out. I found
myself in a large outdoor shopping promenade, looking through the mass of people wan-
dering by me in search of one that stood out. And then I saw him. I wasn't sure if it was the
elaborate moustache or the bright orange vest, but this guy screamed, “Talk to me!”
I took in a deep breath and felt another part of myself emerge—the court jester, the class
clown, the boy who discovered that as long as he could make people laugh, he could also
make them like him a little. It was a mask, but that's the thing with masks: They can serve
a purpose.
“My friend, that is quite a moustache. Is it real?” I asked, hoping my interest would
spark a conversation.
“Of course it's real,” he smiled.
“Really,” I feigned doubt. “Can I touch it?”
Thankfully, my new friend didn't get totally unnerved by the request. He laughed, telling
me, “Well, normally, only ladies are allowed to do that, but you can, real quick.”
