Now we were in the desert, and Adelaide was being petulant.
That moment had passed now and we were out of the desert and into the hills, and Adelaide had stopped being petulant, and we were talking and laughing. Even though my stomach still felt empty, it was alright, and it was passing.
Things don't ever stay the same for long, especially when you're driving.
"Adelaide, dear," I said.
My father told me to slow down, for the millionth time.
"I am slowed down," I sulked. "I'm on cruise control."
"Maybe that's what's making her petulant," he said.
We drove through Vegas just to see it, and we thought we would stay the night. Maybe we would gamble at the Mandalay Bay. But everywhere was full, and so we drove on. We drove down into the lowlands to get some gas.
"Is that a hooker?" My father said. "At the gas station?"
As we drove back up out of the lowlands we saw people lining the streets, people with torn clothes and ragged shelters set up, camped out, waiting for something, under the hot sun. I looked around to see what they were waiting for, but I could not find it. They were mostly black and hispanic men, and this was a side of Vegas I had never seen before. I had never really thought anyone lived in Vegas, much less was homeless there.
We drove back into the city, past big obese tourists with big sunburned arms, and margaritas in big gulp cups, and I watched them waddling up and down the streets looking for the next place to get rid of their money, and I began to feel a little sick inside.
Then we left for good, and I was glad. I wanted to put as much distance between me and this desert as possible.
We stopped at another gas station, and I called my mother to let her know we were alive.
"How's Dad?" She asked.
"Hungry, apparently," I said. "He's buying out the whole gas station. He's got a sandwich and yogurt and potato chips and fruit. He's got chocolate milk and a liter of coke. And now he's burrowing in the ice cream bin."
"Good God," My mother said, alarmed.
I went over to see if everything was ok.
"Energy for the drive!" Came the yell from inside the bin. "You should get yourself something, too."
So I circled the convenience store, picking things up and looking at the nutrition labels and wrinkling my nose and putting them back again. Finally, I brought a packet of fruit and a diet green tea to the counter.
"That's it?" My father said.
His mound of purchases almost hid the cashier from view. She grimaced as she rang them up. My father munched happily on his ice cream cone.
I added a pack of Orbit gum to the pile.
"That's it," I said.
We continued to drive.
Adelaide was really getting petulant now. Her whole front section shook every time we went over 60.
We waited until it was beginning to be sunset, and then we pulled over to a flat stretch of desert to have our dinner.
I was hungry now and I ate my fruit, the parts that were edible, very fast. But not much was edible and so I pouted at it and held the packet out to my father.
"Want some fruit?" I said.
"Sure," he said. "Want some sandwich?"
"No," I said, pouting and staring straight ahead.
I stared down the vast unending highway and saw emptiness. I was beginning to feel very strange.
As we drove back up out of the lowlands we saw people lining the streets, people with torn clothes and ragged shelters set up, camped out, waiting for something, under the hot sun. I looked around to see what they were waiting for, but I could not find it. They were mostly black and hispanic men, and this was a side of Vegas I had never seen before. I had never really thought anyone lived in Vegas, much less was homeless there.
We drove back into the city, past big obese tourists with big sunburned arms, and margaritas in big gulp cups, and I watched them waddling up and down the streets looking for the next place to get rid of their money, and I began to feel a little sick inside.
Then we left for good, and I was glad. I wanted to put as much distance between me and this desert as possible.
We stopped at another gas station, and I called my mother to let her know we were alive.
"How's Dad?" She asked.
"Hungry, apparently," I said. "He's buying out the whole gas station. He's got a sandwich and yogurt and potato chips and fruit. He's got chocolate milk and a liter of coke. And now he's burrowing in the ice cream bin."
"Good God," My mother said, alarmed.
I went over to see if everything was ok.
"Energy for the drive!" Came the yell from inside the bin. "You should get yourself something, too."
So I circled the convenience store, picking things up and looking at the nutrition labels and wrinkling my nose and putting them back again. Finally, I brought a packet of fruit and a diet green tea to the counter.
"That's it?" My father said.
His mound of purchases almost hid the cashier from view. She grimaced as she rang them up. My father munched happily on his ice cream cone.
I added a pack of Orbit gum to the pile.
"That's it," I said.
We continued to drive.
Adelaide was really getting petulant now. Her whole front section shook every time we went over 60.
We waited until it was beginning to be sunset, and then we pulled over to a flat stretch of desert to have our dinner.
I was hungry now and I ate my fruit, the parts that were edible, very fast. But not much was edible and so I pouted at it and held the packet out to my father.
"Want some fruit?" I said.
"Sure," he said. "Want some sandwich?"
"No," I said, pouting and staring straight ahead.
I stared down the vast unending highway and saw emptiness. I was beginning to feel very strange.
I was wondering about what it would have been like to be a Native American and have to live here, and find food here, and water. I wondered how many miles you would have to walk before you found anything at all, and what if when you found it, you had to kill it, and you couldn't, and it ran away?
I was beginning to feel very strange, indeed.
There was a slab of turkey sandwich dangling in front of my face.
"Eat it," My father said. "You need protein."
Once we got back into the car nothing was as bad as it had seemed. We were getting out of the desert now, and up into the hills and canyons. My father was telling me about his life after college, when he had met his first wife, and it was both funny and sad and we were laughing. Things were better than they had seemed, in that moment where I sat next to my father under that vast empty sky, and felt both of us feel so small, and I had wondered, just for a moment, whether he could ever truly save me.
I was beginning to feel very strange, indeed.
There was a slab of turkey sandwich dangling in front of my face.
"Eat it," My father said. "You need protein."
Once we got back into the car nothing was as bad as it had seemed. We were getting out of the desert now, and up into the hills and canyons. My father was telling me about his life after college, when he had met his first wife, and it was both funny and sad and we were laughing. Things were better than they had seemed, in that moment where I sat next to my father under that vast empty sky, and felt both of us feel so small, and I had wondered, just for a moment, whether he could ever truly save me.
That moment had passed now and we were out of the desert and into the hills, and Adelaide had stopped being petulant, and we were talking and laughing. Even though my stomach still felt empty, it was alright, and it was passing.
Things don't ever stay the same for long, especially when you're driving.
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