Death Valley and Viva Las Vegas Baby!

I (Meliss) am honored to write about the deadly heat and all the fear and loathing that was done in Vegas (props to my KU professor). Interestingly,the two locations had a lot in common in terms of heat, energy, and stress.

After dropping The Lisa off at the airport, Jarrett and I spent the rest of the day at Venice Beach where we sunbathed until the LA traffic died down. In my opinion, southern CA seems a bit overrated. Yet, I would not complain. I do love the beach/surfer appeal of the area. I’d go back.

Now it was time to exit and enter into the real heat. It all started with a cool 98 degrees, or at least what is deemed “cool” in one of the hottest places in the world – Death Valley National Park. Yes, they made this hellish kitchen into a park. The scorching heat (a record of 134 degrees) can be attributed to below sea level valleys that are surrounded by 3,000 foot mountains. One man who witnessed the record high claimed to see “birds take flight and then drop dead mid-air.” Extreme heat danger signs lined the road. Guidebooks warned against going during the summer. So we drove there midday without the ACon. (We tried driving with the AC on at one point, but the van almost overheated).

No ranger greeted us at the entrance. Barely anyone was there (smart). Is everyone dead? No Melissa – they just realize that no human belongs in DEATH valley during the summer months when it reaches up to 115degrees daily. Only hot wind to dry your eyes and skin so quickly that your sweat evaporates instantly and you don’t realize you’re becoming dehydrated. No breaks at night since it’s 100 degrees then too. We were traveling in 117degrees. It wasn’t even noon.

I missed my turns at least 3 or 4 times. We had to consistently backtrack. (At least we saw some sweet sand dunes). I figured it was the heat. At one point, we thought we saw a mirage when we drove past some man RUNNING with LONG SLEEVES on the side of the road SMILING. We waved and saw him on the way back. I guess he was real . . . crazy.

Finally we reached Badwater – the lowest point in North America – about 230 feet below sea level. We decided to get out and walk the ¼ mile to the spot. It shouldn’t be too bad. (Why on earth would they call it Badwater Melissa?) We didn’t bring any water on this short walk. (Another smart move). To my surprise, I saw people walking around with pants and shirts.Crazy. The walkway was caked in salt and the air had that devil haze of heat.Human beings did not belong here right now. In fact, no living thing could belong here right now. I turned to Jarrett and told him that I needed to head back. My paced slowed and my heartbeat quickened. I reached my threshold. Once I reached the van, I doused myself in what was left of our “ice”. Jarrett returned,and we both agreed to leave before we died.  In this light, Vegas was more appealing than ever. They had AC.

So we came into Vegas from the north-west after passing through some interesting small towns. As soon as I saw the cityscape, the soundtrack from the movie, The Hangover, played in my head. Jarrett and I had flashbacks to the plethora of Vegas movies we’ve seen over the years. (It’s amazing how much more appealing a film can be once you have visited the location it was shot at). Once we reached the strip, it looked like a cheesy version of Times Square except with more heat. Regardless, we snapped photos.

Thanks to Jarrett’s iphone and the “hotels tonight” app, we scored a two-night stay at the Tropicana for 80 bucks after taxes and fees.This place was right on the strip. However, the room didn’t have a mini fridge or coffee maker, but it did supply a hair blow-dryer, an iron, and a 42’ plasma flat screen. Priorities.

And so the night began. From here on out I would say the cliché what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but I can say that a night on the town taught me a lot of things.  $100 is considered “change”. One can’t get a stretch limo ride home without blowing$1,000. Yet, all the rules can be changed through tipping “well”. As the driver quoted, “the city runs on tips”. And he was right.

The next day we chilled at the pool amidst a tropical beach theme with swim-up black jack tables and bar. We fixed ourselves a spot under a weeping willow and enjoyed beverages from our cooler. (We thought we were rebels bringing a cooler down to the pool area; however, Vegas seems to be very lenient with laws as we found out later. (Thanks PA). Heck, we even checked the pool rules to make sure we were within our bounds. (Thanks again PA).

That night we decided to tour the strip and check out the famous Caesar’s Palace and Belagio water show. Now, I never had a thing for gambling. It never appealed to me. Yet, after Jarrett and I got done touring the “limited access” pool, penthouse floors, and casino level, the bug bit me.Perhaps it was something in the air or water. Let’s just say that we had a thing for blackjack and roulette. (We had studied the games beforehand at our hotel’s casino floor, which seemed amateur when compared to the lavish excess of Caesar’s.

Gambling is a dangerous game. One cannot simply play with$40 or $50. People were throwing down $100 and losing it within 10 seconds at some points. The money came and went. One dealer told us that the VIP room featured guests that gamble millions. She was witness to a couple of people that lost these amounts plenty of times. Wild.

So even though blackjack has apparently the highest percentage of winning, we decided to stick with Russian roulette for the majority of the night. This was my favorite game. I always went for the 50/50 chance of either black or red. Money was won and lost. (I still don’t know why people get all dressed up to gamble. It doesn’t up their chances of winning. Does it?)Maybe we should go back in a tux and gown?

tldr: So here’s pictures . . .