Wendover, I Love You…
01-09-04 12:45 pm: By the time this entry posts, I will be home. I probably won’t be unpacked. I might even still be waiting for Mike to bring Sid home from the kennel. When this posts, I’ll be home, but right now, I’m in Wendover.
For the first time in over 24 hours, we left the hotel. We hurriedly showered and dressed so that we could make the 10:30 am deadline for McDonald’s breakfast. Yesterday, we didn’t even let the staff clean the room. That’s what it’s like to hibernate. We hide in the room, leaving for food and rarely even leaving the hotel. Today, we actually let them service the room.
We allowed ourselves to explore all that West Wendover had to offer us. After McDonald’s, our first stop was the discount liquor store. Nevada has the amazing liquor concept called “the mini-bottle.” You may have heard of it. We can’t buy mini-bottles in Utah. They make us buy a huge bottle of the stuff. If we hate it, tough. We always buy lots of mini-bottles when we come to Nevada. It allows us to try new alcohol without committing to a whole bottle of the stuff.
We drove past the local strip club, Southern Exposure, and the dildo shop, the Blue Boutique. Same names as back home. It’s nice to see local businesses grow and branch out to other cities, don’t you think?
We drove through the small residential area here in Wendover. The mobile homes seem to outnumber the houses, condos and apartments all together. I can’t believe the mobile homes are sturdy enough to keep out the bitter desert cold. Some of them look so neglected that I’m amazed that they are still standing. The rust molecules must be holding hands.
If living conditions are poor, it doesn’t seem to affect the morale of the locals here. I am a people watcher. I watch them when they think that I can’t see. I see the locals working here. They talk to each other happily. The shop keepers were surprised at our presence, but not bitter. They seem happy. It’s nothing like Las Vegas. In Vegas it feels like the locals hate me. They want me gone. Don’t shop here. Don’t eat here. Just get out of my sight. No, Wendover is totally different. These people are actually happy here.
The visit to Wendover accomplished exactly what I needed. I needed to rest. I needed to hide. I needed to immerse myself in a town so wholly different from my own. How can I thank an entire town?
Why would the locals hate you and want you gone? Why would they treat you like don’t eat here or don’t shop here? Maybe i’ll know if I read the rest of your site.
George
Comment by george — 12/26/2005 @ 2:28 pm