4...
	••••••• Another Glorious Rest Stop...An Empty Bladder..And The Comment, If I Was a Man, I Wouldn’t Like Having To Pee Next To Someone That Looks Like You, Unless I Looked Like You Too. -Laura ••••••• It’s one hell of a jaunt to Vegas, but we’d probably reach it sometime in the early ass crack of the morning. Fading....drifting....coming down the mountain as the stimulants begin to subside. We’ll maintain though.......grasping the thin threads. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Passing through Weed, California unveiled a lovely encounter with the law. Cruising at about 90 miles an hour down a hill gave us a brief yet jolting visit from a friendly arm of the law. Reaching for some form of registration, we exposed the open bottle of wine in the glove box, but he wasn’t too concerned about that. After a bit of tense dealings, we tried to experience dinner in Mt. Shasta Town. All we could find was the Black bear dinner-or cafe... A surreal scene out of one of the caverns of Hell...every item included meat in some form or another, and it seemed as if the inhabitants had never seen real life people before. It all just perpetually added up to be a separated moment of surreal time in a surreal space. 10:24pm, my turn to drive the shark. It was incredibly smooth, like driving on possibly nothing at all. The road-kill was immense that evening. There were many a dark splotch and strange textured bump on the dotted white line I followed so strictly. I clenched the wheel with such fiending force, indentations could be felt for days. Things were far from lucid at this stage. Deprivation was at a peak and dehydration was running rampant. There weren’t too many people out that evening. Quite a few trucks though, playing the strange eclectic game of leap frog. It was a spectacularly clear evening. The stars were hiding, but I knew they were there. The moon came up slowly just for Eric and myself. It was quite large and bloody orange, as it shone through the darkness. There were many large orange sacks flung along the side of the road. The only thing we could assume was it was where they kept the road-kill until collection in the morning. -It’s strange driving at night because you can feel the latent energies of a days past, but there’s no one there. 12:08am, a large greyish-brown bunny went hippity hoppeting across the freeway. This was a sign, because shortly there after we finally reached the long sought after highway 50east and the chaos continued. (don’t worry, no bunnies were harmed by our land shark) Friday, 2:19am, we successfully hit Nevada.... I really have to pee. Once hitting Reno, urination had become the theme of this dehydrated escapade. Every last drop of water was trying to escape my body, as the tools of the trade were furiously propelling my body and mind into some sort of awakeness. Eric, still holding onto the thin bits of consciousness commented, Reno sucks...this perverse nightmare never ends. There’s cowgirls on every billboard. I don’t know about you, but it scares the shit out of me. A short pause and some sort of epiphany later, i replied, it’s not country, it’s sick and wrong.