We’re Here

I mentioned on Twitter that we’ve arrived, but I thought I’d drop a quick post up here too. (I know we arrived a few days ago, but this whole summer holiday thing always slows everything down.)

And we’ve been busy. There are so many duties around here, I’m sure you understand….

Do you ever think about writing when you are on holidays?

The Road Was There!

Note: I would like to mention first off that I am creating rhis post using A cell phone application and there are some significant flaws likw predictive text, Ameeican spelling and the fact thT after typing fifteen words the twxt turns white and I can’t se a thing. Is a btike squatting in the dark. You just hope to heck that wRm feing on your toes isn’t pe.

In my last post I worried that our little Trixie the Mighty Matrix might have to fly, swim, or perform some 4×4 type behavior. the good new is that she did not Other than a little time sharing our lanes with oncoming trFfic, it was all good. whew!

if you are curious Bout our progress in our multiple-kilometer trip, you can follow me on Twiter. yep, that’s right, I am tweet gummy way a Ross four provinces. you’ve fgot too e technology.

My Devious Plan

My devious plan is working.

With airfares on the rise it is becoming a bit out our reach to fly out to my grandma’s cottage this summer. Thus my devious plan: drive.

See, I started small a few months ago. I suggested we fly to Ontario (4 hour flight) and then borrow Dad’s Ontario van and drive from there to Nova Scotia (30 or so hours) where we could hang out and explore for a few weeks and then drive back to Ontario, bum around for a bit longer and then fly back. Ta-da summer over and lots of adventures under our belts. A little balking at that plan because Ontario to Nova Scotia is quite a long drive.

Then I moved to a slightly bigger plan (and more unrealistic plan) around Christmas time. How about fly to Ontario, then drive to FRANCE! (There is a little island still belonging to France off the coast of Newfoundland.) Come on, there is even a ferry (about a 40 hour drive, plus ferry time) so you don’t have to drive the WHOLE way. No problem. Buckle up, let’s go. (No takers on that one even though I pulled out the globe and showed them how short a distance it really was and waxed on about how cool it would be to go to France for the summer.)

Now the idea of driving to Ontario (35 hours or so) doesn’t seem so bad. It is, in fact, quite reasonable.

To make it even cheaper we could tent! Fun adventure! Well, actually I had to work on that one a bit. I promised my hubby a Thule so we’d have lots of room in the economy-mobile. Plus, I promised to bring an air mattress to sleep on. And that I would set up the tent. And blow up the mattress. And find the campgrounds. And plan the food. And maintain the car (actually that one is still up my sleeve). And  promised we could stay in a hotel every other night. It would be so much fun!

Now, I’m trying to convince my mom to come too. Come on mom. Lots of coffee! And fun. And tacky monuments. You know you wanna…

(We’ll just sort of gloss over the fact that my five-year-old has a meltdown if we have to drive farther than 20 minutes in one day.)

Freedom to Bear Arms: Las Vegas

Being Canadian, I’m not really into firearms. And yes, I have fired various rifles and have even been handed down a BB gun. But I’m not into guns and I certainly do not travel with them. I am aware that Americans take their right to bear arms quite seriously, yet I couldn’t help but feel twinges of culture shock in Las Vegas upon some of the various gun-related sights. For example, check out this mini-van cab:

And I always thought mini-vans were family vehicles. Maybe ‘try one’ is an experience for the whole family in the United States?

Then again, maybe guns and travel go together:

Or…maybe not.

Even Penn and Teller involved guns in their show, which may have (and strangely enough) resulted in this poster–hopefully is tongue in cheek:

And lastly, this sign worried me a bit (I mean, if they have to put up a sign because they AREN’T allowed here, they must have a problem with people bringing them in…which leads me to question…where exactly ARE they allowed to hang with their firearms?):

Flesh For Sale: Las Vegas

One thing that really surprised me about Las Vegas was not necessarily how they have bastardized every significant monument in the world, but rather it was the blatant flesh for sale. Vegas, essentially, is a theme park for the seven deadly sins and an interesting sociological study.

We’ve all heard the adage: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I had no idea that some folks actually take it quite seriously and that casino owners are embracing it. The weekend folk seems to be there to prove the adeage is true and were a bit more wild than the weekday folk. During the weekend there were lots of young people looking for action. Girls wearing barely there dresses that could cause you to confuse them with hookers. Guys strolling around on the prowl, trying to catch the attention of passing gaggles of girls. Shops with slutty outfits in the windows. Hotels with topless pools, oh sorry, I mean, with an ‘European Experience’. Sculptures based around nudity. The weekend seemed to emphasise the Vegas flesh experience.

And that’s is to be expected. Vegas is where a sexual whack-job can go to be free. However, what was a bit startling were the lines of Hispanic men wearing bright t-shirts boasting: “GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS. Delivered to your door in 20 minutes.” Wow, it’s like pizza. If it’s takes longer than 20 minutes, does that mean they’re free? But not only are the men wearing the shirts advertising the phone number, they have a stack of coloured business cards with photos of half dressed or nude (white) women (where is the diversity?) and a phone number. All hours of the day there are lines of these guys up and down the strip, and particularly in areas where people have to squeeze by them as there is no other way around. Every hand that went by, they would try to slip a card to them–even though I never saw anyone other than loud drunk young men take a card–one group was collecting them like sports cards. But it was the flicking that really got to me. Whenever you walk by, even if you are holding the hand of a large man, they flick their cards with a thumb making a ‘flicking’ noise and try to slip a card into your hand. By the end of the trip, I was ready to grab one of those stupid cards and shove it up a nostril (not my own nostril in case you were wondering). Isn’t it obvious that I prefer men and am not looking for ‘company’?

So although the flicking nuddy cards were annoying, it was the discarded cards scattered on the sidewalks that really annoyed me. It is rather disconcerting for someone who likes to walk briskly and often checks where they are walking to have their attention always being caught by cards underfoot. Always walking, always walking on a half-dressed or naked woman cast down like garbage upon the ground. Littering the sidewalks in compromising positions, slowly being ground into the cement. Bothersome. It affects one’s psyche.

But that’s not all. Newspaper boxes that line the sidewalks don’t hold newspapers, they hold call girl catalogues, the yellow pages has 100 pages of ‘entertainers’–yes I counted. Everywhere you look, flesh is for sale. You look out into traffic and there is a moving billboard with a scantily clad woman with a phone number and the words, “Hot Babes. Delivered to your door in 20 minutes.” Is there some central warehouse? How big is Las Vegas anyway? It takes me 20 minutes just to get through my hotel/casino and up to my room! So, up and down the strip these billboards drive, sucking up fossil fuels, rubbing super-sized breasts in your face.

Oh, and I forgot about the showgirls. What would Las Vegas be without showgirls? Of course the casinos have waitresses wearing barely-cover-your-bum outfits and sport dancers and large posters of buttocks and ads for showgirl performances. Our ‘do not disturb’ sign for our hotel room door had showgirls on them. Even scultptures in Vegas are naked.

Sadly, Vegas has even turned Toni Braxton into a ‘showgirl’ and alluded to that her singing show may be a nuddy show by calling it ‘Toni Braxton Revealed’. Check out the side of the hotel where she plays:

It’s no wonder that after awhile you feel the urge to start dressing like a slut. Okay, no. But I could see how someone might if they were one of those who enjoyed walking the strip with their alcohol in hand–which also appears to be legal–and likes the experience of grinding with another woman on top of the bar at Coyote Ugly and taking their top off at the pool.