roadkill a'head'

while attempting to leave las vegas, i take, what i think are, a few shortcuts... just to end up stuck in a mess of traffic and construction. and guess what? it's fucking hot here in the desert, even in december! i have no a/c. my balls are sweaty. i feel ill.

i decide to backtrack, realizing these shortcuts are not working out to be quite as short as i had hoped for. i have just added approximately 40 minutes of pointless driving to my already long day of driving ahead. hurray!!

i eventually stop off at a gas station a little ways outside of vegas, where the casinos are fewer and farther between. i fill'r up ('r being the deathcab) while looking out to what may be the last casino in my horizon. al..most... gone...

i go inside to pay for the gas. the lady working the counter has a big, brown perm lying misshapenly on her head. it could be a wig? it could be a dead animal? who's to say really? she's pleasant enough though, and all smiles...

"how are you doin' today darlin?" she asks, with a slight spit of, what seems to be, southern hospitality.

i'm confused for a moment - did i take a wrong turn and end up back in north carolina? oh wait, NO, of course not. that's the desert, there's a casino, and this lady is just a robot with built-in southern charm functionality.

"glad to be the hell out vegas!" i eagerly answer back with a large grin.

"hush now! don't you say that." she half-jokingly replies, smiling as she hands me my receipt.

i depart, glad to be on my way, further, out of vegas.