Well, I hope everyone is having a wonderful Thursday--I get to spend my day down at the Clark County Justice Court. Yep, it's time to pay the speeding ticket I got that night last month when me, Steve B, and Falcon Rob got together at Main Street Station and drank all that strawberry beer. I think spending a couple of hours in the Vegas courthouse should provide some interesting observation and insight into the human condition at the very least.
As far as the speeding ticket goes, this is my first time running afoul of the law here in Nevada, but according to the ticket I could just send in my "bail" of $300 and all will be forgiven. For going 50 mph in a 35 zone they want to charge me three hundred bucks? That's twenty bucks per excess mile per hour. Screw that. I'm gonna go throw myself on the mercy of the court and see if I can't arrange to spend the day in traffic school instead. My insurance, with no tickets or accidents in the past ten years, is almost $175 per month--I certainly don't need a speeding ticket on my record and jacking up my premiums even more.
I had another brush with the law late Monday/early Tuesday after work, also. It was my 'Friday', I was at the top of the Early Out list, and had been trying to get out of work since about midnight. To top it all off, my friend Stephanie showed up, looking absolutely smoking hot, with one of her friends for dinner, drinks, and bowling. About 12:30 she stopped by my blackjack table and made a show of flirting with me and asking what time I got out of work and such, and to give her a call if I didn't get out too late.
So after that I was pretty much begging to go home! It was not to be, and I was stuck dealing to a bunch of morons until 3:00 am. Another friend of mine was in there playing and I stopped to talk to her at the table she was sitting at, and since she was winning big and drinking like a veteran T2Ver, she tried to slip me about $50 worth of chips. I couldn't just drop them there on the floor, so I went back over to the main pit and gave them to the shift boss, who was kind enough to drop them in the toke box for me and said she had my back in case surveillance called. (Not worth losing my job for fifty bucks).
Anyhow, it was just after 3:00 am, so I ran out to the parking garage and as soon as I started my truck I gave Stephanie a call. Of course, being well-lit in the garage, I forgot to turn on my headlights, and got a mile down the road before I saw one of Henderson's Finest flip a yoo-ie and cruise up behind me. At that moment I realized that I was in such a hurry to hook up with Stephanie that I didn't turn on my lights.
I told her that I was about to get pulled over and that I'd call her back. Of course turning my lights on then was too late. His lights came on too--the red and blue ones.
I gave him my excuse that I was on the phone as soon as I got in the garage and forgot to turn on my lights, but he wasn't so sure he believed that I'd just gotten off of work in the casino--he quizzed me about work to make sure I wasn't making stuff up, and stopped just short of making me get out and do a sobriety test. But he took my info, ran a check on my registration, license, and everything else, and let me go with a warning after just a couple of minutes.
Of course I called Stephanie back, but she was already at home, working on a hangover cure for the next morning.
So there I was, ridin' off into the sunrise.
Alone.
Again.
Oh well. I was tired, sweaty, and needed a shower to wash all the casino funk off of me. I then went home and slept for about twelve hours straight, pretty much wasting my entire day off. I was so out of it that the only thing I ate all day was four graham crackers and a diet coke. I got up to check the internet/email a couple of times, but for the most part, I either slept, read, or watched tv for the next 24 hours.
Fortunately, I've got a couple of books to keep me interested the next few days, and another sailing website written by another couple who are out there doing what I wish I could be. It'll take me a few days to read all of their journal entries from the past three years, but it's a great form of escapism. I love the neon city, but I'd trade it for some palm trees, ocean breezes, and sandy beaches in a second.
Mikey
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