My Delta (née Northwest) flight 297 landed at McCarran at 7:15 Las Vegas time after cruising over stunning desert views that grabbed at the throat with their beauty. We forget the world is a planet but until we see it from a plane, the Grand Canyon a mere serpentine darkness streaking across red and brown desert, snow-dusted mountains, deeply carved rivers highlighted with green. I didn't get my room until eleven yesterday morning. Now if I were a reasonable person I would have left my carryon bag with the bell clerk, rented a car and started shooting while the light was still gentle on the camera sensor but I had to get one task done before moving to the next. Our neuroses follow us into adulthood and I am certain will be there until death!
No rooms were available when I first queued at Circus Circus. One reads how tourism is down 20% in Sin City, USA but don't believe what you read. The city and the hotel was as busy as ever. I stood in line a second time and then took almost an hour to get checked in. It took me half an hour to get the elevator right but I did discover that my room was right over the exit to the public parking garage of the hotel. Guests parked free which I think is unusual but then this is Vegas and most people, especially families and large groups, apparently arrive by car, truck, SUV or motor-home.
The second task after securing my room was to get my conference pass at the Las Vegas Convention Center. I crossed the street to the Riviera and took the shortcut through their parking garage and the convention center's parking to the convention center. I stopped by the tourist office on the ground floor and chatted with the attendant, an amiable guy called Richard. I followed up on an idea I had when I was last in Vegas to rent a car and drive to the Red Rock National Conservation Area. I had read it was not far. It is actually just 20 miles from the Strip. Valley of Fire, Richard told me, was an even greater treat. I had perused the NAB program after registering. There was so much to do at the convention. If I had not registered for the Post Production Conference I would have been kept busy with everything else going on, the opening speeches, the Content Theater showcasing ground-breaking trends in media, and, of course, the Super Sessions with industry leaders like Shantanu Narayan of Adobe and Bud Albers of Disney, Coraline editor Henry Selick, various film editors, stars and TV personalities. I tussled in my head between the lures of multimedia and photography.
On way back to the hotel, I took the long way to procure water from Walgreen a couple of blocks away on the Strip. Across the street from it was Brooks Car Rental. The woman at the hotel car rental counter was renting out her last vehicle when I left the hotel. Carol at Brooks quoted me a price for a similar compact $10 cheaper. She was also nicer. Her accent gave her away. She grew up England but has lived in Vegas twenty years now, loves it and can only tolerate the Old Country for a week before she has to escape it again. Her whole family is here. In fact, her son, Steve, is helping her.
I took the plunge and rented a Suzuki automatic. Because I was uncertain about my driving in a strange city I took out extra insurance. The total is $15 more than if I had taken the bus tour from the hotel. I was fighting the Friday afternoon traffic so it took 45 minutes to drive to Red Rock which is just outside the last residential project of Vegas. The view is awesome! I spent the next fours there, discovering as I went how much more there was to see there. The sun became hot after an hour but walking past yuccas and other succulents, the surprisingly varied spring flowers blooming in the desert, was a first-time adventure. I imagined this was how the landscape must have looked to the pioneers to drove out here with their wagons or adventuring single men searching for trouble.
I was going to drive out to Valley of Fire this morning but decided I've had enough. I wanted to write. Writing helps me organize my thoughts. I am always surprised to read what I have written in notebooks that are now a sizable pile at home but don't usually read them when I return home. Writing is mostly to facilitate thinking or to release the pressure of thoughts wanting to be recorded. It's like how I used to take pictures, for the sake of taking the pictures, as if by shooting the scene I would always have it to go back to. Writing and photographs are identical in this regard. I wonder if I could transform the neurosis to something useful, even gainful.
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