Sunday, Aug. 19:

We said our goodbyes to Jeff and Janine and thanked them for letting us stay with them for five weeks. Honestly, without them this trip would not have been possible. Then we jumped on the freeway and headed northeast to our first stop,Las Vegas.

Calico ghost town

Our first stop along the way was in Calico, an old silver mining town that has since been largely abandoned and turned into a tourist attraction. We obliged and went in. It was hot hot hot that day, the temp in our car hit 112 at one point. Outside the sun beat down and hurt the backs of our necks.

Apparently Calico was a silver mining town that at its peak in the 1880s had about 1,800 residents, and in total they mined $86 million worth of silver out of there. Then when the price of silver dropped, the town crumbled. We walked through and saw a reconstructed town hall and a reconstructed fire house.

The original barber shop was there, which for some reason doubled as the dentist’s office. Outside there was a sign advertising “Goose Grease moustache wax.” Get me some of that, please.

The original pharmacy was still there, with a list of what they used to sell there. It included “cures” for ailments like German dyspepsia. Sounds nasty.

Then we walked through the mine and were able to have an idea of what it must have been like to work in there, which must have been horrible. We were both thinking about the recent mine collapse in Utah as we were going through. In the tour of the mine, they have mannequins in different locations set up to look like they’re mining. Some of them were smiling, and it was creepy.

Then we went into a cafeteria down the street and we bought a sarsparilla to split. Cost was $2, but with tax it came to $2.16. I almost asked if they had food tax in the Old West but kept my smart-alecky comments to myself. Turns out the sarsparilla, which was called Sioux City Sarsparilla, was made in New York state. Now that’s a genuine “ghost” town. Seriously though, we did actually enjoy it there.

World’s tallest thermometer

Our next stop was in Baker, Calif., the home of the world’s tallest thermometer. We pulled in and the mercury read 108. Well, actually it wasn’t mercury. It was a digital thermometer. I was kind of disappointed, thinking that the world’s largest thermometer would be a mercury thermometer. Bea rightly pointed out to me that if it was mercury, there would be too much of it in there and it would probably be dangerous.

But whatever, I was still disappointed. Besides, if there was a little mercurial danger involved, all the better, right? We had already walked through a silver mine, so what’s a little mercury?

Las Vegas

So for the first night we decided to stay in a hotel. We checked into the Monte Carlo, which took forever, and then went to our room. There appeared to be a urine stain on our blanket (yummy) so I called housekeeping to bring another up. When we returned to the room later that night, we found a new blanket tied up in a plastic bag on the floor. It was Make-Your-Own-Bed Day at the Monte Carlo, apparently.

We left and went to the Smith & Wollensky restaurant across the street. We both have fond memories of the S&W in Boston; Cathleen took us there for a gluttonous meal one time that included like six courses and took us three hours to stuff our faces. It was fantastic. This time around, we each got a Wedge salad and split theirtruffled macaroni and cheese. It was plenty and it was delicious.

Then we hit the Strip and headed for the Wynn, which Bea hadn’t seen yet. Along the way, we walked through various hotels and stores and casinos like you always do in Vegas. And we got solicited by the whore pamphleteers. If you haven’t heard that term, don’t worry, I invented it. The whore pamphleteers are the group of people, both men and women, who stand on the side of the sidewalk and try to hand you pamphlets and brochures of prostitutes as you walk by. It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or woman, black or white, 83 years old or just out of the stroller. You can guarantee that a whore pamphleteer will be slapping a whore pamphlet against his hand and sticking it in your face. Take it, they’re goading you. You know you want to. No. No I don’t, Mr. Whore Pamphleteer.

So we got to the Wynn and Bea loved the look of it and took plenty of pictures, including this one of us in front of the waterfalls outside the hotel. Then we walked back to the Bellagio and caught the end of one of their fountain shows. Bea stayed for another one but I was too tired and had to get up early to start work the next day, so I went back to the room and made our bed at the Monte Carlo so we wouldn’t have to toss and turn on top of dried urine all night. Viva Las Vegas!