The sun had long dipped beyond the mountain, so what was this glow? We were cruising through the desert at 80 miles per hour, when this strange light began to appear in the distance. The light at first glance was a peculiar neon-like glow. We were so far out into the desert we could not imagine what could generate such a bright light. Joyce said nothing, but I knew she was wondering what lay ahead.
The two of us were on vacation for the first time in years. We had not had a paid vacation ever so this was exciting. We had never been there before so there were no preconceived notions of what our destination would be like. The map was just a straight line through the wastelands. We knew we were not lost, but we knew not where we were. I guessed we had gone 275 miles, but were still shy of our destination by perhaps 25 more.
I said nothing but I was feeling the hair on the back of my neck beginning to rise. I shifted in my seat. I didn’t remember any town on the map nearby. The still searing heat of the day told me one reason why no one lived out here. My throat was a dry crust and I found it difficult to swallow. The brightness on the night sky was now unmistakable. I looked for a hint of the moon, but there was nothing but darkness over the skies except in the direction we were traveling. The moon would be in the eastern sky, but we were looking north. As each hilltop was conquered, the glow intensified. I knew we should have waited until daylight to make the trip. Bright lights are normal in the city, but the desert mountains are so barren I felt like I was on a different planet. I wanted to turn around, but the return side of the highway must have been out of sight on the other side of the hill. “What do you think that glow is?” I said. “I don’t know,” Joyce answered. I hadn’t seen a crossing road for 20 miles, so there was no option but to continue. I wished I had waited to make this drive. I wished I had a cool drink.
Ahead a highway sign said: Pahrump 1 mile. I squinted into the darkness, but saw no sign of a town. The light was still 10 or more miles away, but Pahrump was off to the west, through the pass and my guess was it was not the source of the increasing glow before us. No sense going even further off of the beaten path I thought. That’s when the villains really jump out and grab you. Never go down the darkened path, head for the light, even when there should be no light in the area.
“I don’t know what that is,” I said, but I had a queasy feeling in my stomach. “I don’t like it either,” said Joyce. As the car rolled down the road the sweat rolled down my armpits. We had talked for 275 miles but now the silence was discomforting. All of the eager anticipation was replaced with dead like silence. I looked to see if she had her eyes open. Her eyes were ever widening. She fumbled for her cigarette lighter. Then she tore through her purse looking for another pack of cigarettes. Thoughts of our impending vacation were now displaced by thoughts of what was ahead, between our vacation and us.
I’ll know soon enough I thought. The intensity was so bright I no longer needed headlights. I thought I was still 20 miles from my destination, but in 1 mile I’d go over the ridge and I’d know what the lights were. I wished there were flashing lights like police use ahead, but these were not the same. I wished I had never seen that ‘Close Encounters’ movie. My bladder was quite full and I didn’t want to be abducted with a full bladder. At least if I was to be killed I didn’t want to be killed and wet my pants in the same instant. My gosh, it’s like a hundred cars are just over the rise and they all have their bright lights on. Damn that Steven King! His story ‘Christine’ used the bright headlights to scare me right before something bad happened. Now I’m sweating profusely down my armpits, my throat is dry as a dirt road, my bladder is expanded out pressing against my belt, and in about 20 seconds, I am going to see something I have never seen before and I don’t have a clue what it is. Joyce hasn’t said a word in 20 miles, but her eyes are big as silver dollars. She has had a smoke lit up ever since we first realized the lights weren’t normal.
The old Volkswagen huffed and strained. I wondered if I would have to downshift to get over this, the steepest of the hills we had yet to cross. Just as we went over the summit, the car lifted into the air as if we were flying. We were up at about 1500 feet and our eyes bugged out! There below us yet several miles away was the source of the lights. “My gosh!” We spoke in unison. The lights down in the valley below were blinding! I had seen bright lights in big cities, but this was a shrine to electricity! “That is Vegas!” I gasped.
A half hour later we pulled into Caesars Palace. Little did we know, but it was Elvis week. We stood by the car and looked up to see a plane fly over and out the sides of the plane jumped a dozen parachutists. They were all dressed in shimmering white costumes reflecting the spotlights in a hundred different directions. Each of them had long black locks of hair and shiny gold rim sunglasses that came in handy even though the sun was long down. The flashing casino lights and the megawatt spot lights magnified a thousand times by all of the other casinos and gambling halls made the sunshades useful even after dark. There in the middle of the pack of flying Elvises was a grandma, slowly floating down to the ground. She looked so cute in her white sequined jump suit. She was so revved up from the jump, she roared out, "enough of this! Let’s hit the tables, I’ve got a wad of cash to blow tonight!”
I’ll never forget that vacation. There’s never been one to match it, and I doubt there ever will be.
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