Poured myself off a Greyhound bus in North Las Vegas that was a three day drive but took five. Free wi-fi, free butt cramps, free willy. I had to get rid of the sea legs so I went walking around to see what I could see. Partied hard with some cats at a local hostel...trashed, crashed. I woke up one morning and wondered where the hell I was. It was in some sketchy strip club neighborhood and that was its good point. Forced down some pancakes with some local Nevada syrup in the morning even though my stomach was screaming bloody murder. There just wasn’t enough coffee to drink to clear my head. On a whim of some kind, I went over and used the swimming pool at the Stratosphere and hung around to see if there were any rich cougars prowling around for a guy like me,you know disheveled and with a couple of dollars in my pocket...no such luck. I fell asleep and burned my face off...that’s OK, I never liked it much anyway. Just five minutes from Fremont Street and the ‘Fremont Street Experience’ where I shopped for cheap souvenirs and people watched all day. There was a cheap, uh I mean inexpensive buffet. I can’t remember the name of it now to save my life, but they had good real good fried chicken--some mashed potatoes with gravy, roast beef, ice cream and coffee...went for the kill and got my fill. I listened to a knockoff Pat Benatar singing at night. Just a few minutes away from the Heart Attack Grill where you get free food if you weigh over 350 pounds. The RTC Deuce bus reminded me that they were gonna follow some special schedule or something for the upcoming Christmas holidays...OK...It took me slowly to the other end of the strip like a soldier crawling on his stomach to where all the glitzy casinos are and where the women with six inch high heels and short tight skirts strut around. I don’t know how the driver didn’t run over like 100 people on the way, I would have. There were just mobs of people crossing the streets and when I got off, I pretended I belonged there. Sat up against a blank white wall with a flask but it was too much to ask and after a while some bastard security guy who looked like he was ready to give birth chased me away, so I hung out by the Bellagio fountains and watched the fountain show a couple of times. I found a Burger King across the street or so and that fit my budget--then over to the Miracle Mile to walk around and wish I had the kind of money needed to buy anything there. Made a stop at some Irish Pub back by the Luxor hotel and pretended I was a soccer fan of some team or another and some drunk Irish guy bought me some overpriced Irish Whiskey and we listened to the house band and watched the game. Soccer ain’t so bad when you’re drunk. The next day hungover again, caught a tour bus over to Red Rock Canyon where I tried to communicate with nature but there was no answer. Basked in the warmth of the sun...nice after freezing my ass off. I didn’t know Vegas got so goddamn cold in December. Gave some thought about going out to the Grand Canyon so I got another tour bus and after a really llllooooooooonnnnnnnggggggggggg bus ride, got there just before dark--wow, thanks tour company. I snapped a few pics...too many damn tourists...had absolutely the best turkey I ever tasted though at this place we stopped for lunch in Williams, Arizona. It was at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel and the place was called the Grand Depot Cafe. The hostess was super nasty. She obviously didn’t appreciate my sarcastic smart-ass humor but that turkey!!!...I mean that by itself made up for the miserable 16 hour bus ride back and forth and the horrible movies they played that I tried to ignore by staring out the dirty window at the Great American landscape zipping by...squares of color blurred like looking at a Cezanne painting at 55 miles an hour. The restaurant was by a train track that went where train tracks go and I would have been happy to go with it but I’d already paid for my luxurious bus ride home. Later, I found out that we were on Route 66 in Arizona for a little bit so I bought some cheap sunglasses as a token to Americana at a gas station and pretended I was cool cruisin’ on the mother road.