This trip's photos will vary from previous formats, because some of y'all have complained about how long the page takes to load with the pictures on it... so now, the pictures are just a click away.  And, I'm on the road... it would take forever to post the pages over a dial-up connection, so I guess a few of the complaints could be valid.  Nah...

We departed at the unholy hour of 4am, but by acts of poor planning on Tubby's part, we didn't actually touch the freeway's road surface until 4:22am.  And he still neglected to transfer the stuff I needed to work on my web pages during the trip (while he's out presumably attempting, miserably, to get a girl -- any girl -- to talk to him). 

Anyway.  Right around 5:30am we saw first light, and I was so moved I need my picture taken.  (And I needed to go potty, but that's not important, and not pictured, thankfully).  We continued from I-5 to SR-58 which met up with I-15 in Barstow... of Route 66 fame (and other things, maybe, but I only know about being in the Route 66 song).  I opted to head down Main Street, which had "Historic 66" stenciled onto the roadway every mile or so, but aside from the Route 66 Motel, and the wall where posed for this (and then once more with friends), I didn't find much that was reminiscent of those days gone by.  So I pointed the Bald One back to the interstate and we were back on course for Las Vegas.

And almost made it.  About eight miles before Baker, CA (home of the world's largest thermometer), we had to stop.  Now, if you think that I'm a little odd as ducks go, check out one of the brilliant legacies your species endowed onto future generations.  Granted, it's not genocide or trying to encourage the unyielding Americans to switch to the metric system, but it's hideous.

And we got to Las Vegas a little after 12 noon.  It took another 20 minutes for Mr. Wonderful to actually get to the off-strip hotel (a Hilton, which surprised me given his overly cheap nature).  So, we checked in, I got carried about the hotel, and were all squared away by 1pm.  With nothing else on the agenda, I suggested we head down the strip (on foot; as noted, the big guy could stand to be less big).  We were out about three hours total, and I rather enjoyed the trip, but the Bald Wonder is complaining about blisters.  Apparently, given his spend-thrift ways, the hotel is near the Stratosphere, which by extension means were maybe three miles from the MGM end of the place.  (And if you haven't been, even just the "strip" -- where all the casinos and stuff are located -- is huge, and walking hurts my lil' ol' webbed feet... so I got carried.)

Right off the bat, I was confused.  If I wanted to go dancing, why would I hire a dancer to come to my room?  It's the whole point of a social to actually be social?  I don't get it.  We wandered down and stopped in front of Treasure Island first.  And is that a dolphin in the water?  Nope, it's just The Mirage.  Across the street was the Paris, with its miniature Eiffel Tower (although this one has a pricey restaurant slapped into the lower floors).  Near the far end and across from the New York New York was a combination store and museum for both M&M and Coca-Cola.  Both warranted photos, of course.  We headed back, but it took every ounce of strength I had to taunt and jeer whats-his-name into getting back (before he got all short-tempered and possibly would have made me walk).

Interesting place, this Las Vegas.  Again, your species are interesting specimens.  It was an almost even mixture of couples and families (with the younger kids), which I thought was odd.  You'd think this is a 21+ town, at least 'round these parts.  Maybe it's just me.  The only single woman I saw was actually getting hit on by four guys (the front passenger leaned out a bit and asked her if she wanted to go dancing... which further added to my confusion about dancing being a social versus one-on-one activity).  And there were many more attractive people (read, women) here than I've seen in any single public place in a long time.  I wonder if that has anything to do with this town being smack dab in the middle of a desert.  With several obvious attempts to fool you into thinking otherwise... I have never seen so many attempts at creating an 'oasis' atmosphere as there are on the strip.  Well, granted, the boy tried it in the back yard, but I would hardly have called his attempt a success by any right.

We wandered about in the quest for food, since the day had passed up until that point with the only non-gas-related expense being $1 for a Pepsi (which someone didn't share with me at all).  And no, I'm not forgetting the room; it was pre-paid, so it hit last month's expense and didn't get charged to my March budget.  Clever, eh?  Dinner was a predictable fare of Pizza Hut, but given someone is about as adventurous with him trying new foods as he is with talking to strangers, if it didn't have a name he was familiar with (and liked, even), he passed the place over.  I tried for Benihana, since it's the only place where dinner is the show (and would be friendlier on my budget).

We then drove around town a bit, and found some of the amusing moments of the place.  My personal favorite is the sign for the "Chapel of Love."  If the marriage was solely driven by love and the devotion to one another, what's with the implied message in the sign's graphics?  And even if everything else holds true, the "'Say I do' drive-thru" is just over the top.  After tubby spilled his Diet Pepsi (given his girth, the "diet" isn't fooling anyone, is it, now?), we retired to the room for the evening, a little bit of COPS, and slumber.