Urgent care, Vegas


Zeenie patiently points out that I’ve tried to cram too much in those boxes.

5:30 AM – a frigid 87 degrees. Getting here was easy. Can’t wait to get out. My AirBNB is peaceful, that’s a good thing.

It was great to see my daughter — so much has changed since I put her on the plane to Atlanta in January. We had a bit of an emotional moment. She’s here with a boyfriend whom I fear is not the one. Over attentive and puppy-ish. Awkwardly, his parents are here too, and they are Very Nice and also a bit much. They took us out for an expensive meal and would not accept any contribution. That’s very generous but also a tactic to create an atmosphere of obligation. Boyfriend is a competitive pool player — there are thousands at the Rio Hotel this weekend. Watching the matches is a view into a peculiar subculture: when you set up the balls and knock them violently apart and none of the balls go into the pocket, that’s called a Marilyn. I don’t know why. Boyfriend won his pool match, but hasn’t won Em’s heart, I fear.

She’s been pushing it too hard lately and she had a nasty sore throat last night. Just try to find an urgent care in this town late on a Saturday night. Not too much human interaction to be found among the glitter and gold. (There’s a TRUMP tower here — yuck!) I had to send her to bed with just some throat spray. We’ll try again this morning before I take off for Utah. The complete and total cultural opposite to Sin City. I’m ready.



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