Leaving Las Vegas (for real this time)

We awoke for one last time in the comfy and almost luxury of the LVH hotel room. A later check-out than normal meant we could grab a bit of a lie-in to recharge the batteries. So after leaving our luggage with the baggage check guy we set off for the north part of Las Vegas, the Old Strip as it is known. We had been advised by Kwan’s brother Steven that it would be good to see if we had the time, and we had it alright – our bus to Salt Lake City was at 9:30pm.

The walk up Las Vegas BLVD was a hot one and we quickly realised that there was a good reason why everyone stayed on The Strip rather than up here – it was rough. Not rough like Harlem, or Seacroft, but decidedly less classy than the area we were staying in. We counted a large number of tattoo shops, Bail Bond shops and cheap wedding chapels. Once we had got trough “no-mans land” and onto the historical Strip it began to feel like home again, with slots as far as the eye could see. Freemont Street had a ceiling/archway across the street where they showed all manner of colourful light shows after the sun had set, but sadly for us the sun was shining high in the sky so we were not able to catch the show. We did manage to identify the Greyhound station and after we had both tried our luck on the massive one-armed-bandit in the Golden Nugget casino (with some success – we both came away with a big shiny gold coin, equivalent to the dollar that we had played) we jumped on the bus to get back to the hotel. The buses, if you didn’t know already, are double-deckers that were brought in from England. Which will explain why we both felt at home in them as they were very similar to the Volvo First buses you get in Leeds. We had a two hour ticket and therefore a two hour time window to get from North Las Vegas back to the hotel, pick up our bags and get back on the bus towards the Greyhound terminal. We made it, with plenty of time to spare. Which meant a reasonably lengthy stay in the bus station (approx 3 hours, which is nothing to us now) but as we had managed to be the second and third people to get in the queue we were fairly happy.

When in Rome!

And then the usual happened. Guy in front of us started chatting to us, and the girls in the next line, and everyone else who joined our line bound for Salt Lake City. I got the netbook out to catch up on the ol’ blog and left James to deal with the conversation, mainly around punk-rock/speed metal and how the girl in the next line had ripped a tendon in her leg from being “sling-shotted” into the mosh pit on her latest night out. In keeping with the “each Greyhound terminal does it their own way and you can either like it or walk” they began searching everyone’s bags before being allowed onto the bus. The girls in the other line had no issues with their luggage, but the chap in front of them did. He was wearing an orange t-shirt that had “Property of Las Vegas Prison” emblazoned across the front and back (which really didn’t help matters) and then the security guard searching his bag pulled out a foot-long claw hammer. Well, he wasn’t allowed THAT on the coach for sure so it was removed from his bag and left to one side. I’ll never know if he got it back in the end. As the girls in the other line departed we were left with an even bigger problem...

Whilst waiting in line a woman in a green top had come over to Jonathan (our young Mexican temporary companion) and asked him if he would like her to pray for him so that he would reach his destination safely. He politely (but with a slight turn of the head and smirk) declined this offer, even though the woman had stated that the service would be free of charge. She left us alone after that and we both sighed and realised that we had dodged a religious bullet on that one. But more was to follow. James returned from the restroom and suddenly two gentlemen approached us bearing such wide smiles that they could only be part of some weird collective. They were. We were again asked if we would like a prayer said for us and if we would like to join them in prayer as Jesus was awesome, or something to that effect. James took the assault full-on and bore the brunt of the attack. Jonathan and I were hit by shrapnel pinging off James as he bravely stood his ground. When asked what our religions were we replied: Atheist (Jonathan), Pagan (James) and no words sprang forth from my lips. I respect people’s right to believe in whatever they choose and I wasn’t going to enter into a religion-bashing contest with these two clean-living, wide-smiling Jesus-fanatics. From out of nowhere another one of Them joined in. She was the one who was apparently fully-qualified and could hear messages from God himself. He obviously wasn’t busy that night as He took the time out of his day to give each of us a once-over and offer his opinion to Rhonda so that she could enlighten us. She opened with James, and rambled on about leadership and being at the helm of the group. Probably because he was in the middle of the three of us, a clear foot taller than Jonathan and I, and I was trying not to be involved in their conversations. She seemed to miss-fire on Jonathan too as he rebuffed some of her claims and stated that she was only 50% correct. And then I waited for my summation. Both James and Jonathan had got theirs, but it seemed that He couldn’t be bothered to glance in my direction. And then I noticed Rhonda out of the corner of my eye, look me up and down and jot down some notes on her little pad of paper. It seemed that I was to be given the same treatment.

I was disciplined and ordered. Swing and a miss. I like to follow the rules. There’s two. I am diligent in everything that I do, including in my homework. Strike three, you’re outta there! It was a valiant attempt, but I couldn’t help feel that maybe she was picking up interference from the cold beverage machine in the corner. I didn’t want to dismiss her claims flat-out so I offered some reasons why I thought she was a little off with her predictions, but she always seemed to have a comeback for it. Apparently I didn’t seem to understand what she had said initially and it turned out that she meant almost the opposite so as to fit in with my corrections I sent her way. The next thing I know the woman behind us has joined in with the God Squad and was nodding and confirming many things said by the 3 original members, until her husband took her by the arm and said, “ok, that’s enough now, dear”. And then they were gone. One last try at getting us to say a prayer right then and there to book our place in Heaven (where apparently Adolf Hitler may or may not be....?) and they left us to it. Thankfully, this was because our coach had arrived, and we were to be getting on much earlier than the departure time, which was a first! So as we settled in for another night on the road we joked with the chap in front of us about tour little encounter and inflated our neck pillows ready to be finally Leaving Las Vegas.