Beer and clothing in Las Vegas: a brief photo diary

[Tal]

Tal, can you explain your post tho, it has whooshed me completely.

They were a little worse for wear.

Click to see full-size image.

[The_nun]

Oh I see. Tx, I must be getting thicker as I get older.

[Redsgirl]

So, ladies and gentlemen, it's day five at 5:30am and we are sat in Starbucks at the Nugget waiting for our driver to pick us up and take us on our second road trip.
Today we are off to L.A.
Now I know most of you think we are mad trying to do so much stuff when there are more than enough things to see and do in L.V., but we reckoned we probably never be there all together again, so we might as well make the most of it.

There were enough of us to have a private charter that day, so no other unsuspecting tourists, just an unsuspecting tour guide, a young black guy called Dave.
Poor man looked slightly taken aback when we clambered into the bus fighting over the window seats, but he soon regained his composure.
Problem was, although he was very professional, (He told us he had previously driven for Steve Tyler and Brittany Spears before the long hours had lead him to switch to tourist charters) he was very reserved, and spoke to us like he was speaking to the cast of Dowton Abbey.
After delivering a flat little pre prepared speech about how lovely the scenery would be along the way, Dave handed out O.J and pastries, slid a Simply Red CD into the player and told us to get comfortable and enjoy our journey, and not hesitate to ask should we need anything.

We managed to contain ourselves for about fifteen minutes, then someone called out 'Are you going to listen to this honky shite all the way there Dave?'
That kind of broke the ice, when he had finished laughing he told us that he only listened to old school hip hop or modern rap with explicit lyrics so a colleague had given him the Mick Hucknall album saying that we'd love it.
This of course gave us free reign to take the piss all day, but by now Dave had reverted to what must have been his normal persona and gave as good as he got, which meant everybody had a lot more fun.

After a couple of hours drive through the Mojave again, including passing through Death Valley which had gotten pretty close to matching the highest recorded temp on Earth that week (130 c, the record being 134 c ) We reached the first stop on our tour, Santa Monica beach and pier.
True to form, we made a show of ourselves the moment we got off of the bus by marching obliviously through a scene from the TV detective series Rizzoli and Isles being filmed on the pier.
How we didn't notice the all the people and equipment I'll never know, but we walked right in between the actors and the camera and the director had to shout CUT! At least I think that's what he said.
It was all very embarrassing, but they were really nice and we had a chat and a laugh with the crew about it afterwards.

Santa Monica was lovely but there was a strange smog hanging in the air which made it look like a grey day at Cleethorpes even though it was really hot. We had a picnic lunch, a stroll down the pier and I even dipped my toes in the Pacific ocean just to say I had.
After a hour or so Dave came to collect us and off we went to our next stop, Beverly hills.

[Redsgirl]

.

[The_nun]

 "the director had to shout CUT! At least I think that's what he said".

[Redsgirl]

Not a Vegas story I know, but I thought I'd share a little part of my day with the the good folk of blonde.

I was walking back to my car this afternoon after a spot of shopping when i noticed that one of my rear tyres was quite deflated.
Thankfully it wasn't completely flat, more like a slow puncture so I thought I would blow it up at the nearest garage and let my old man deal with it when I got home.
Thing is, after almost twenty years of driving I'd never yet had to do this particular little task but, how hard could it be?
First job was to locate the air pump thingy on the garage forecourt.
I soon found it, but unfortunately it was about ten feet away from the open doors of a shipping container that was sheltering half a dozen men in hi vis jackets, who were supposed to be washing cars but due to a lack of customers and presumabley a radio or newspaper, all decided to stare at me like someone blowing tyres up was the most interesting thing to happen all day.

Trying to ignore them I set about the task, but failed at the first hurdle as the machine needed 50p I didn't have. After a quick trip into the garage for change I came back and proceeded to read the instructions (Manufacturers recommended psi?! I just dialled it up a bit and hoped for the best) put my money in, pulled out the pipe and purposefully walked round to the flat tyre.
Well I tried, because I got just over halfway when I ran out of pipe and it was yanked out of my hand.
My audience began to mumble between themselves at this point, I don't know the Romainian for 'check out this stupid woman' but I'm guessing that was the gist.
I quickly jumped into the car and did the worlds fastest three point turn, aware that I had already wasted half of the four minutes of air allotted and I'd only got one fifty pence, got back out still managing not to make eye contact with any of what now seemed twice as many smirking men, screwed off the little cap in record time, jammed the nozzle onto the valve and triumphantly pressed the handle.
It was only when the jet of water squirted me in the eye that I realised I'd had the wrong hose all along.
I can still hear the laughter. 

[The_nun]

Well at least it wasn't petrol.

[booder]

 

[vegaslover]

[Doobs]