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We arrived in Las Vegas late in the afternoon. We checked into a motel a good distance from the Strip, but drove back in for the evening. After spending the last few days visiting Tule Lake and Manzanar, and driving for hours through remote rural areas, downtown Las Vegas seemed completely unreal.

We walked into the MIRAGE, and I remember seeing a re-modeling sign that read “Pardon our Dust: We are Improving the Mirage.” Large crowds of tourists wandered around with Big Gulp containers filled with margarita slush.  We walked through carpeted caverns of slot machines, row upon row of restaurants and shops.

Then it was off to the craps tables. I had no idea what I was doing, but John came out ahead — enough ahead to splurge on a nice dinner and return the winnings back to the casino. After four days of canned soup, eating a nice dinner seemed like a really appealing idea. I remember eating at a French restaurant, and having a nice glass of red wine.

I didn’t feel any need to take pictures in Las Vegas. There must be millions, (billions?) of pictures of the Strip in all its extravagant absurdity. On this trip, Las Vegas wasn’t a destination; we were just passing through, and we’d be back on the road by morning.

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