Isn’t it always the time for peace?
“You know when I took deliveries for Grubhub in Toledo they wouldn’t even let you schedule blocks between the hours of 1 AM to 6 AM.” My brother mused to me after I told him that I’d been leaning into my jet lag.
“I can assure you that’s not a problem here. Three AM is a very active time on the delivery app here in Las Vegas. And a few days ago I got to watch the sun start cracking through the mountains as I was driving at 4:38 AM. God I love summer sun. It’s always been my favorite time of year.”
“4:38 AM? You guys are way early on the time zone.” Andy said.
The official sunrise is not until a little after 5 AM, but in the time around the summer solstice the sun lingers for a long time on the edges of the horizon. Las Vegas is one of the most prominent 24 hour cities in the world. There’s unlimited 24 hour alcohol sales and deliveries and casinos intentionally block the windows and clocks so that people spend more time putting their money into machines while forgetting what time of day or night it is. I am sure that the lessons learned from the casinos on the Strip for how to keep people inside their place putting their money into the machine were built on once smartphones rolled out to keep the global population fixated on those screens instead. The incentives sometimes changed to likes, going viral or social clout. The fundamental structure, albeit more sophisticated, remains the same.
As someone who has worked on a computer for decades I learned a long time ago that I have to get away from the screen and do something in the real world to find my balance. That other thing can be a long walk on the beach, getting my hands dirty in the garden, cooking, painting, singing, building something or interacting with other people in my realm. If that thing other than the screen pays me for doing it, provided it is not morally compromising, all the better. I was delivering pizzas before the Internet even intruded on doing such a thing. My enjoyment of driving and listening to music continues.
As now Internet completed tasks go I far prefer ending them with the term “Delivered” as opposed to the US.gov preferred term for their forms which is always “Submit.” Substack’s “Publish” term for completing whatever I want to share on here exists in a positive way for me. Don’t I want to be publicized?
When the disconnect between what the screen says is happening and what I sense becomes too great I especially feel a need to venture out the front door.
My brother sent me this map of the United States which shows me something the state of Nevada is almost certainly number one on. It shows the percentage of residents of a given state who were born in that state, with the white areas being the lowest percentages (34% or less) while the dark red areas indicate the highest percentages (81% or more). The Las Vegas area has the lowest numbers, while Ohio and Michigan seem to be fighting for the highest number of born in state residents.
This probably explains why my younger daughter especially is so popular in her Michigan school. She’s exotic there. In Las Vegas? Not so much.
In Thailand they just assume she’s a Thai girl:
I saw this video posted of a Fourth of July fireworks mishap which I showed to my husband Ka. If you have never been to an American backyard type of celebration you might not understand. I was laughing to tears at it.
I explained to my husband. “This same same our Fourth of July parties! I remember one time this drunk guy started lighting festival balls and throwing them randomly at people.” Now festival balls are supposed to be loaded into a shooter to go up into the sky where they make a beautiful fireworks display. Throwing them at people is obviously not safe. That was many steps up from bottle rocket wars and just a few steps down from throwing live hand grenades. In everyone’s defense the guys coralled the drunk in, who was cut off from booze and forced into a corner to sleep it off. Bo got some serious burns on the back of his calf shielding me from one of the explosions. PTSD and alcohol don’t mix.
“Another time my brother had an M-80 explode in his pocket.” It’s a miracle he didn’t lose his junk over that.
I continued. “Then one time Luke brought a canon to a Fourth of July party. Where in the Hell do you even get a canon?” I tried to explain to Ka what a canon was but I think this all went over his head. I am referring to an actual war canon that shoots very heavy canonballs. This was like something from the Civil War or earlier. “Now Luke was all careful and sober and we were on Jim Saman’s farmland. So he shot it off once at midnight, carefully calculating for the trajectory. I wish you could see someday what the Fourth of July is like in America.”
The last grand finale on those home parties was always at midnight, where the remnant drunk and usually less family oriented crowd still remained. Every year like clockwork my Dad waited for it. Happy Birthday, my Father in Heaven.
Some days ago I was on a middle of the night delivery which had a pickup at Roberto’s Tacos in Sam’s Town Casino. These calls are usually quick and easy because nobody else is there and traffic on the roads is light. But I had a drunk double date ahead of me in line.
“Hey what you ordering? I’m sorry we’re taking your time!” The one black man said to me.
“I’m just here for a delivery!” I responded.
Everybody started laughing. “You have a blessed night Ma’am.”
I smiled as I picked up my order. “You all as well. God Bless you.”
As I was leaving Sam’s Town I noticed something left by the ashtray outside. It was a light blue Sam’s Town free well drink coupon. Dear God the look of it hasn’t changed in decades.
My grandfather used to cash in one of these every day at Sam’s Town in the Sports Book and dutifully brought for grandma one margarita.
“For you, my dear.” He said every day. 65 years of marriage couldn’t dim his shine. It probably made it stronger.
I turned the free drink coupon over in my hand. Of course I was driving on deliveries and couldn’t use it.
“Thanks, Grandpa.” I said to the heavens, as I left it for the next person in need. I hope that well drink coupon finds the right person.
July 2 is one of the most momentous days of the year for me. Here’s a video from 13 years ago on Nai Yang Beach of all places:
I’ll try to drive safe. But sometimes I think their evil plans will not come to be because God is protecting us.
Family photo taken on July 2, 2016 in Red Rock Canyon. From left to right my first husband Oh, Uncle Scott, Jasmine my Mom Eliza me and Scotty. It’s a never ending road…
That fireworks exploding in the driveway is classic! And sometimes I feel like Mel Gibson. Great post! Can't say I could read that marriage certificate. haha!
Woody Harrelson can say that again! I am always amazed I’m still alive but not always happy about it!!