Monday the 28th was pretty uneventful. May 28, 2001
I told you you'd see this picture again - this is how I remember Garrett the
most from this trip. I love Vegas, really love it, I went to bed at
midnight and was up by 4am - no kidding. I was so wired the first day
there that I got up, did sit ups, push ups, walked around Freemont (interesting)
and once the sun came out (around 6:30am) went for a ride.
Monday the 28th was pretty uneventful.
Garrett and I rode the strip, ate a lot, rested a bit, hit Freemont and looked for trouble. I am not sure when it happened, but this is as good a time as any to talk about it. Garrett and I walked down Freemont Street looking for cheap food and colorful entertainment. When you head east on Freemont it gets less entertaining and more interesting, or vice versa depending on your point of view. There is a 7-11 which is the demarcation zone between "safe" Vegas and "interesting" Vegas - at least in my mind. Garrett and I are about 10 blocks passed "safe" Vegas when we see a Tattoo shop. I was trying to get Garrett to get a tattoo (and am still trying) so we went in.
It is important to explain that in packing for the trip Garrett and I both brought knives we picked up at a survivalist store as well as an item generally referred to as a "tire buddy." The tire buddy isn't really for tires, and it isn't your buddy . . . Garrett is packing a flip-lock blade that is razor sharp and about 6" long. I have a similiar one, except mine is smoked out (no shine). They both are folding knives with a rapid open tab - though not spring loaded for legal reasons. I am wearing a tank top - so my ink is showing, Garrett is in all black.
So, we walk in to the tattoo parlor, both carrying our pocket knives and both of us aware of our surroundings. As we walk in (I swear this is true) a small, muscular man says, and I quote. "YAHHHHHHH" then he went on to say "YOU GUYS DON'T NEED MORE TATTOOS - YOU NEED A KNIFE!!"
At which point he pulled out and opened a 2" pocket knife - and while I will admit it was a nice two inches, I have to go with my wife on this one and say that two inches just doesn't scare or impress anyone.
Garrett looks at me . . .
I look at Garrett . . .
Both of us (nearly simultaneously) pull out and flip open our knives and just look at the guy.
"SHIT!" says small muscular man "You guys wanna look around?"
Turns out the eloquent if diminutive man worked at the tattoo parlour. We spent the next half hour talking to the artist, looking at new work, and trying to get Garrett to inked.
We spent the rest of this day enjoying ourselves in the Las Vegas tradition. Use your imagination, because we ain't talkin'. Here is a shot of New York, New York, at the corner of the Strip and Flamingo.
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