The drive to Las Vegas from Los Angeles is a familiar one to most Southern Californians. It’s more or less a straight shot – highway 10 to highway 15. It’s one of the few times we actually look forward to getting in our cars and battling the gridlock before unleashing onto the open road.
The pavement cuts through endless track-home subdivisions, mini malls, mega car dealerships and then tears right through the barren Southwestern landscape of California and Nevada. Gold and reddish-brown hues rest below the smoggy skyline and add to the taunting you get when paired with the often scorching heat. But this time, the cool February air made it a bearable — if not enjoyable — journey.
We weren’t going there to lose our money or to celebrate a friend’s obnoxious bachelor party. This time we were going to see a dear friend and celebrate a Super Bowl that most of us didn’t have much riding on anyway. It was a chance for me to put aside my pessimistic stereotypes of “Sin City” and kick back with great friends in their new home. It also gave us a chance to jump off of the 15 and get a close-up of Mojave. Short-lived, perhaps, but I think I may just be open to another trip. I’m glad I made it.
