When we arrived at the tiny town of Beatty, it was immediately obvious that this place existed mostly to serve the traffic coming in and out of Death Valley. There were a few cheap looking motels, the obligatory restaurants and gas stations, even a ritzy casino. We were just looking forward to a comfortable night’s rest when we were told by a receptionist that “every room from here till the California border has been booked for the long weekend.” I was momentarily stunned, and instantly started to chide myself for not making reservations. The horde has arrived, and we were in the midst of it. We ignored the omens, disregarded the signals, and grossly underestimated the number of people traveling on this day. As a result, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere with no available hotel room within a hundred mile radius.

“Let’s drive to Las Vegas”, said Paul.

“You gotta be kidding. Vegas is two hours from here”

“What other choice do we have?”

He had a point. With the zillion hotels in Vegas, there’s got to be one with an available room, right? So, we hopped back into the car, and headed south. Two hours later, we were scouring the Strip asking for a hotel room. After about 15 phone calls, I decided that it was time to grab something to eat and resign ourselves to sleeping in the car. That was definitely a novel experience for me, and I slept surprisingly well.

Until, of course, 5:30 in the morning when the security guys shone a light into the car and politely and firmly told us that we are not allowed to sleep here, chums. “Ok, sorry”, we replied, which actually translates to “You think we have any choice? Fxck you.”

So we got up and decided to see if the breakfast buffet at Bellagio was going to be open anytime soon. It didn’t start till eight, so I sat down at a blackjack table and squandered forty bucks in ten minutes before heading back to the car to catch another hour’s worth of sleep. The Bellagio parking lot was much more comfortable, and no security guys showed up this time.

We debated a little about our plans for the day over a hearty brunch. Should we make the two-and a half hour trip back to the Death Valley? Should we stick around Vegas and check things out? Should I try to win back my forty bucks? Where will we spend the night? Bakerfield, as planned? Why not in Vegas? In the end, we came to a compromise – go back to the Valley, and spend the night in Bakersfield. That would cut the return journey by half on Monday since Vegas to SF would have been a ten hour drive