... and we just left behind in Lawrence (Kansas) a finished game of indoor hotel putt-putt. There was no winner, but there was one loser: Tim Presley.
So far there's been much mild-weathered enjoyment; so much, in fact, we haven't had quite the opportunity to sink much TLC into this little blogspot. Not headlining this time around has meant an extra few free hours a day, which lends itself to good times (although not of the pictured variety, which, yes, is a real place).
This time Vegas was night #1, before even the first show, and we whiled it away at the toxic, miserable, yet somehow embraceable Riviera, up at the top of the strip, across from Circus Circus and Slots-O-Fun. Is it a new low when you get cheated out of 5 bucks by a disgruntled 75-year-old dealer at 4 a.m. at the lowest-minimum roulette table on the strip? I dunno. But the pit boss wouldn't check the tapes, and now our sound guy (Doctor) is out 5 bucks.
On the way out of Vegas, in a Starbucks parking lot, this guy suddenly appeared at the driver-side window, hand on brow, peering into the van - proof that this van/space shuttle still attracts a lotta unwelcome/welcome attention, especially when it's still clean. He fell off a mountain, and has a wooden leg. He also makes rooster noises. Nice guy.
Also, thus far, we:
• Played with the highly enjoyable Goblin Cock in SLC
• Went out of our way to get a closer look at about 10 unsupervised rural Utah children jumping off a trampoline onto low-hanging branches
• Ran into the Henry Clay People at a gas station in Wyoming
• Ate (as always) at Denver's venerable Breakfast King, like so: