USA 13

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Nathan and I decide to accompany Max and Charles to their new motel which is located even deeper down town. Nathan and I are due to fly back to San Francisco today whilst Max and Charles are going to hang out in Vegas for while longer before finally heading to L.A. It's very sad and after our last lunch together we head to the old strip to enable Nathan and I to hail a cab.
The walk takes about 20 minutes and I don't think I've had to traverse such distance with my luggage in tow since we arrived. Not that my bag is heavy (indeed I have travelled, as always, very light) but it's mid-day and Vegas is, in effect, situated right in the middle of the Mojave desert.
Nathan asks me to imagine being stranded in the Mojave proper, right now, hungover with no water or shade to protect oneself from the vindictive sun. It's a thought that doesn't really allay the rigours of travelling back to San Fran which lay ahead but does humour none the less. Just imagine it for a while. You're dehydrated, you can't think straight, the taste of booze lingers in your mouth but you are stuck in the middle of the Mojave, no respite in sight.
We reach the old strip and hail a cab. It has been an honour to have been part of Max and Charlie's American Odyssey. We bid a typically British farewell in its restraint and head off towards the airport.
But not before we've stopped off at some warehouse along the way for Nathan to check out the price of lapsteel guitars. I don't have a problem with this but the location along the side of a major freeway does encourage me to ponder the impending difficulty of hailing another cab.
And so it turns out to be. We end up walking to major junction trying to ascertain which side of the road would be best to be on, with no apparent pedestrian crossing with which to execute our final choice. We make our flight comfortably but we had given ourselves ample time to do so, a result of our close shave in Charlotte no doubt.

By the time we've arrived in San Francisco it is dark. After negotiating the train back to the Green Tortoise we are pretty knackered but feel obliged to hit Delirium for a final blast. We sort of go through the motions, talk to a few of the locals in an attempt to differentiate the night from the previous two spent here. I figure that tequila chasers might liven things up but when Nathan un-expectantly reciprocates with his next round I end up dashing to the bogs to throw up. We quit whilst we are just about ahead and get a cab back to our hostel. Tomorrow we intend to head back to Haight Ashbury - me for records and Nathan for a lapsteel guitar.

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