When they hear the words, "Las Vegas," most people associate the city with flashing neon lights, dancing girls, endless buffets, amazing shows, and world-class gambling, in grand, beautiful casinos and resorts. However, there is a dark side to the lights, glitter and gaming, and this morning, J.J. and I walked right in the middle of what seemed to be one of the worst, undesirable area of Las Vegas.
Our morning excursion was to visit the Container City. Somehow the free shuttle bus driver dropped us off at the Neon Museum.
All of the tours were fully-booked for the day. J.J. was going to get a taxi back to the center of the city, then my phone rang. It was one of our dear friends. Wishing to maintain the signal I had for her international call, I indicated to J.J. that I would like for us to walk. I could see the familiar landmarks a several blocks away. It was a middle of the day on a busy street. What could go wrong?
A big mistake. It was, especially for J.J., one of the longest and nerve wrecking 25 minutes walk. I was on the phone all this time intently listening to my friend. J.J. in the meantime, was watching out for us as we passed horrid neighborhoods and equally unpleasant individuals who were demanding money.
By the time we were by Vegas Vic, the enormous neon cowboy which is the world's largest mechanical neon sign on Fremont Street, J.J. relaxed his grip of my hand.
Even bizarre entertainment and fashion of Fremont Street was welcome respite after our unplanned morning walk.
Aloha -- Cathi