Reno, the conclusion…
After our final dinner in Reno, the five of us (Tristan, Paul, Cap’n, Zoe and yours truly) met up with Amy and Mike for a final night on the town. Highlights avoided the entire event, and I delighted in not having to witness her projected self-loathing and ill-fitting tank tops. Zoe and I, perhaps a bit overdressed in strapless gowns and gold accessories, created a little thrill for the dirty wife beater crowd in Finnegan’s, err Firtzgerald’s. In fact, one Rascal-bound gentleman was staring at Zoe’s flawless ass so intently, the ever protective Tristan gave him the evil eye and a middle finger, just to let him know she was highly off-limits. We once again ventured into the Enchanted Forrest, rewarded with more eyeglass repair kits and American Flag four leaf clover pins.
At one point, 5 hot guys in huge cowboy hats walked by. Zoe leaned over and said, "Which one do you want?"
"The one that went to college."
I am not a gambler, preferring to sit at a bar and purchase my own drinks rather than stuff change down a machine while waiting for a 70 year old in a leotard to grab me another gratis Dixie cup of vodka. Everyone else, it seemed, loved to throw their money away, and I was occasionally abandoned, even by my supermodel sidekick. As a result, my hilarious witticisms and observations were completely wasted on the gentleman passed out of the bar stool next to me. Alone, of course, is when I spotted to most egregious and exciting offenses, like the woman sitting at the Elvis Presley slot machine, wearing a caftan, slippers and a headful of rollers. Unfettered by her boudoir apparel, she pumped those nickels in that machine like there was no tomorrow, showing no reaction when she won or lost.
Zoe and Paul soon ran out of quarters and joined me at the bar on the second floor on Finnegan’s, or what I like to call my own little slice of hell. I think I may have contracted herpes from the stool. I’m still waiting on the test results. The three of us engaged in a heated discussion on the war of the sexes and the difference between dating in the big city versus God’s country. It seemed Highlight’s repeated advances were taking their toll on Paul and he needed the estrogen perspective, which we happily provided.
Exhausted, we left Mike and Cap’n to their astonishing winning streaks and went home, choosing to spend the early morning hours packed into Zoe and my hotel room watching Back to the Future and eating malt balls.
The Oregonians were staying for one more night, but as Zoe and I were leaving that morning, we agreed to join everyone for a breakfast buffet at El Dorado. With 8 of us, we split into 2 tables and Zoe and I spent breakfast chatting with Tristan and Cap’n about everything from dream cars to our hopes and dreams. I was not only delighted to be seated as far away from the slightly perkier Highlights as possible, but thrilled to chat all morning with Cap’n, who is my new favorite person even though he rejected my Aston Martin.
Another interesting perk to traveling with emergency personnel is that they stop constantly to observe and chat with other firefighters and EMT’s, admire ambulances, and applaud fire trucks as they drove by. I’m not kidding. This happened constantly, and we found ourselves fast friends with every cop and firefighter in Reno. I also found myself standing on a sidewalk while my seven travelling companions examined a fire hydrant.
After the appalling breakfast buffet, which incidentally included pizza and both regular and sugar-free dessert for the diabetic contingent, Zoe and I bid our new friends farewell, avoided all eye contact with highlights and headed off, stopping briefly to purchase tacky gifts for those back home in civilization. Back in the Buick, we made it nearly out of Reno and then burst into hysterics, recapping the weekend and marveling at the skanky splendor of the biggest little city in the world. Zoe put the pedal to the metal and looked over at me. “Thank you so much for coming with me. Above and beyond the call, Beth.”
“Thank you for bringing me. I’ll be blogging till Christmas. And really, imagine if you had to do this alone…”
Next stop, Jersey. Who’s with me?