Before going in, I can already tell the place is packed; there's a large group eating outside and it's not warm enough in the day to willingly do that. I walk inside and almost every single seat is packed, and the customers are 100% Hispanic. I've got nothing against that, but that doesn't mean I expected it, so it comes as a slight shock; I don't even think I've been to a Mexican restaurant with this concentration of Hispanic people. But I figure it's Arizona, probably nothing out of the ordinary for this place, and keep going.
Stepping up to the register, I hear one of the employees say, "Meal for bus driver," so it seems the bus occupants are in here which must be why it's so crowded. I order the usual, a Sausage McGriddle and large drink, and look for a seat. If you, like me, haven't been to a McDonald's in a while, they've added counter seating. Basically, it's a long bar like table with seats on both sides. The only seating available are 3 counter seats, so I grab one, not even worrying about if they have electric ports since I have no choice.
When I sit down, I look at the occupant of the seat diagonal to me and give him a nod, like I would any stranger I sat near. He's a, Hispanic of course, man of probably mid to late 50's, with a scar/dent on his forehead, and enough roughness in his face to tell he's seen some things. His response to my nod is a very firm mean mug: he doesn't like me at all. And based on how little we know about each other, I'm guessing it's either because I'm white or he absolutely HATES Sausage McGriddles. He reminded me of the guy in the wheelchair from Breaking Bad, and as far as he was concerned, I was Walter Whitey.
A younger guy fills the empty seat that was beside me and starts talking to the man. The older man responds in Spanish and makes a quick nod towards me. It's times like this that continue to make me want to learn Spanish, so I could cut him off when he says something bad about me and say, "What'chu talkin' 'bout, punto?"
A little while later, several older white men on touring style motorcycles pull into the parking lot. One of the other younger guys at the table says something in Spanish to the others and they all turn around for a few seconds. Then one of them says, "That's funny, just because they're white and on motorcycles they look like cops," which I thought was funny too, but it did show race is definitely an issue at this table, which is bizarre for me. In the southeast, I'm used to white people being more racist; I generally have to be ashamed of my own people for some of the things they say. I guess it's not the color, it's whoever has the majority population who's willing to talk dirty.
The old man leaves for a little while and the young guy beside me doesn't seem to have anybody else to talk to for the moment, so I say to him:
"If you don't mind me asking, what are those buses for?"
"We're all headed to a conference in (somewhere), Texas. Gonna be over 10,000 people there."
"Oh, ok. What kind of conference?"
"You ever hear of network marketing?"
The old man has come back at this point. I think for a second. I recognize the words "network" and "marketing," but I don't recall hearing them together ever...
"Amway? Pyramid sales?"
"Ooooh, yeah, I've heard of that."
I didn't tell him my parents once did it, and they told my brother and I it was a pyramid scheme, and I thought anybody who decided to do it was an idiot. But I'd heard of it. He hands me a ripped open packet of some sort of herbal tea they sell.
"There's a lot of money in it. That guy in the orange sweater over there," he points at the guy, "he makes 10,000$ a week."
I wanted to ask, "And he still can't afford to buy a better looking sweater than that," but I'm certainly not one to judge fashion. Also, 10,000 must be the approved Amway number to use to impress strangers.
I could tell from his mannerisms he wanted me to be intimidated by the sweater man's bankroll. Amway being based on, "pyramid sales," I'm sure there was money to be made if he could get me interested. Yeah, I quit my job I majored for to travel to Arizona to sell herbal tea with you.
The old man ask me what I do and I tell him I quit but was a web developer. I also tell them I'm from South Carolina. They don't seem to be interested in why I quit my job or why I'm on the opposite side of the country, they're only interested in money: very salesman like of them. The old man says,
"There's a lot of money in web development. Those guys that work at Google, they get paid a lot."
"Yeah, they do."
"How much do those workers get paid at big websites like Google and Facebook?"
"I'm not sure."
"But they're good places to work, right?"
"Yeah, it's mostly about the environment. Google's got the free cafeterias and the gyms and all those goodies that make them the best place to work."
"But you don't know how much they get paid?"
"Nope."
Why does he even care? Was his decision to further his education based on how much he could make at Google? Maybe it should've been based on when you thought joining Amway was a good idea. This guy is driving me nuts. A booth with an outlet finally opens up so I move to it. The buses leave a little while later and the place is nearly empty. After writing for a bit, another bus of people comes in. Knowing it's gonna get crowded again, I decide to leave for the local library.
At the Mohave County Library, they have a table of about 10 seats with multi-outlet strips for people who want to hook up their computers. There's a divider in the middle, so when I walk on one side of the table and see the only available seat is between two people, one of them an older man playing what appeared to be an RTS (real time strategy) game, which was surprising, I decide to look on the other side: this was a mistake.
The other side only has one available seat as well, which I take, because I'm already on that side of the table now. But to the left of this empty seat is a man...probably mid to late 50's...with enough roughness in his face to tell he's seen some things...I give him a nod, like I would any stranger I sat near...and his response to my nod is a very firm mean mug...and a snarl. Yes, this man snarled at me. But at least he's white, so I know it's not a race thing: he's just extremely anti-social.
I continue to sit, start up my computer, and start researching the things I want to do in Las Vegas. During this time, the man beside me becomes the real life version of Wolverine from the X-Men. He snarls some more, he breaths heavy, he mutters cuss words under his breath, he lurches and growls. At one point, he puts in headphones and blast death metal, only, I think, to try intimidating me into going away with it. I genuinely worry I might get bitten, but it's no good: at this point in my trip, you're only a good story for me to write about.
He eventually leaves, I think feeling defeated over the fact he couldn't scare me away (I felt a little bad for him), and a little while later another older man sits across from me saying, "Looks like we got a full house today," to another older man at the table. It seems this whole table is full of old men who do nothing but come to the library and leech wifi every day: it's one of the most bizarre social meetings I've ever encountered. At one point a younger man, probably closer to my age, sat down beside the man across from me, and almost immediately the old man says,
"Do you know anything about this Obamacare?"
Well, I know where this is going. I don't like the idea of a socialist America either, but this poor boy is not the one who made the bill. Also, you're leeching sources from what's probably a tax funded library, so there's no reason to get too hasty. But he rips into the boy about all the things wrong with it. The boy gives the standard responses you give to someone you don't really wanna talk to or upset: "Yeah, I understand.", "I know.", "I agree.". When it's all said and done, the older man says, "I'm sorry, I don't have a wife and kids so I just have to rant where I can, I didn't mean to put that on you." I'm not sure if that's more sad or endearing.
Wolverine's seat is replaced by another older man, this one less snarly, who after a while ask the man playing the RTS, "Did you build that motorbike?" I didn't realize it was him, but on my way into the library I had seen a man on a bicycle rigged with a motor to make it run like a motorcycle.
"Yeah."
"Where'd you get the motor from?"
"(Some place)"
"Okay, I was thinking of getting one from (some other place)."
"Yeah, you don't wanna go there."
"Oh, is he a blacky?"
Well, it's racist, but at least he's white, so I feel closer to home now.
"No, those are cheap motors he buys and says he makes em. He told me. They're no good though."
While passively meeting members of the Free Ample Internet at the Library club, I started planning my trip to Las Vegas. I always believe in counting on the numbers, so years ago I started studying what the best games to play in Las Vegas were and discovered a site called WizardOfOdds.com. It's a mathematically based website that teaches you all sorts of games and the odds of winning them. I learned from this site Blackjack has the best odds of any other game. There's also a chart to show you the best decision to make based on what you and the dealer have. And for years, this is the game I've wanted to play because it could get me the best odds using the site. But for me to memorize the chart would not only take a while, but I'd have to go to the right casino: different casinos have different blackjack rules and use different amounts of card decks which alters your odds. Looking at the 2 best casinos for blackjack, 1 of them seems to have recently gotten rid of blackjack, and the other has very sketchy reviews. I'd like to go to Vegas and get the full experience of going to a lobby, getting free drinks while I gamble, but without the part of having to worry about getting mugged on my way back. I don't want to stay at the sketchy place, but it's too far from any legitimate hotels to gamble there and walk back. So all the hotels I am willing to stay at have worse odds. If the odds are worse and I'm not even sure how long it'll take me to memorize the chart, maybe I should look for a different game. Then, I come upon craps.
Craps is the game where people roll the dice down a long table and yell 7 and 11 a lot in the movies. It's got the second best odds, and though the rules can seem complicated, the best strategy according to the Wizard is very simple. There's also a hotel, right on the strip, at an affordable rate, with good odds for craps. And that's how I decided to stay at the Hooters Hotel in Las Vegas. It had nothing to do with the fact it's a Hooters based hotel, that came as a perk, it was completely coincidental based on an attempt to increase odds of winning money while staying at a safe, affordable hotel.
Before confirming my decision though, I take a lunch break. There's an In-N-Out Burger in this town with good ratings and I've always wanted to try one. My family once went to San Diego when my brother was stationed there and I'm pretty sure we tried In-N-Out and/or Jack in the Box, but it was one of those things I shot out of my mind rather than storing in memory. I need to go purely with the intention of remembering what the food taste like.
Walking in, I'm immediately reminded of Five Guys Burgers and Fries. There's a red and white tile scheme, the menu is very simple (burger, cheeseburger, fries, drink), and there's an open view into the kitchen. I get the feeling In-N-Out came first, but it's good for me to have a comparison. I get a cheeseburger, fries, and drink. The cashier ask explicitly if I want onions, and I tell her no. I thought it was a plain cheeseburger based on their menu, but there was also lettuce, tomato, and a sauce on there: not sure what makes onion so special it gets asked for. I throw the tomato off and eat the burger; it's good. Nothing to write home about (even though I am right now), but it's better than your usual fast food burger. And while I understand fresher food takes a longer time to prepare, it seemed like it took too long for a place called "In-N-Out"; maybe the drive-through was heavy. The french fries were shoelace style - I'm not a fan. They tasted more like potato sticks than french fries. It definitely has its own style, and I'm sure people who like that particular style probably love the place, but I'll personally stick to Five Guys on all levels.
After lunch, I head to a Starbucks where I recognize a horrible truth: for the room in Vegas to be affordable, the earliest day I can go is Sunday. Any day before Sunday and the room cost over 100$. Sunday, the price drops to 25. At that price, I could stay for 2 nights. But I'd have to stay in Kingman for 3 more days. And as we all know, I hate having to stay in the same town for more than one day, especially a town I have nothing to do in. I would be willingly submitting myself to torture for the next 3 days. But at over 75$ savings a night and being able to stay 2 nights, it's hard to say it's not worth it...so I book it.
* * * * *
I slept at a Walmart heading into day 32. There's a different McDonald's right across the street I go to for breakfast. I order something and look around for an outlet and a man sitting at a table in front of me says,
"You looking for electric?"
"Yeah."
"There's 1 at table 6 (he points), all the booths along the walls, and the 2 window seats."
I'm amazed. I'm stunned. It's like he's some sort of McDonald's gypsy guru. "Wow, you've got em all memorized," I say before heading to a window seat. He wasn't dressed as an employee but must've been to know table numbers. Whatever it was that gave him the knowledge base to allow him to know such a thing off hand, it probably won't solve cancer, but it got me electricity, so I'm thankful for it.
After McDonald's I head to the library. The same man who was playing the RTS is there but I don't recognize anybody else. I set up my computer and visit a craps simulator the Wizard made. And I play...for the next 5 hours. I test different strategies, bet with different amounts, and just in general try to build up my endurance for the game. The simulator starts you out with 10,000$. The highest I get is 68,000$. My plan is to set aside 100$ for gambling. If that were to have been a real game I could've left with 680$. That's not bad, but later in the day I start the simulator over several times and end every game with a net loss. Every winning round of a casino game is somewhat based on luck since the odds are always against you, but I didn't think that first stroke of luck would go so far.
I eat at a local Mexican restaurant called El Palacia for dinner. The inside is very colorful and decorative, it looks nice. There is, however, a painting on the wall of a woman kneading dough with her strap coming down, almost like it's supposed to be seductive, but she looks sad and worn out. It's almost definitively what I'd imagine a sweatshop worker to look like, so I'm not sure what the artist was going for.
The food is good enough, though it's no french fry burrito. Rather than bring one dish of basic dipping sauce to your table they bring 3: a chunky, very vegetabley one, a thinner, spicier one, and bean dip. All of them are pretty good, too. They also gave a complimentary churro section and whipped cream with the check. I'm not sure if that's something they usually do or they thought I was some sort food critic since I was here alone, but it was a pleasant surprise: maybe I should start taking a notebook into restaurants with me and write notes while I eat.
I fill up on half the food, which is always good when you're trying to save money, and put the leftovers in my trunk. Afterward, I decide to do some laundry. Another thing that sucks about having not found somebody to stay with this past weekend is it's normally when I clean clothes. So I went to Northern Coin Laundry which was a great experience. There was a little old woman running the place who realized I don't do this often and did her best to help me with every single step. Some stuff I still remembered how to do from college, but I didn't wanna interrupt, so I let her keep helping anyway.
After this, it was getting kind of late, so when I went to Starbucks they gave away free sausage biscuits to pretty much everybody there. I don't know if it's because someone ordered them and couldn't pay, it was getting late and they had to get rid of stock, or Starbucks just gives away free stuff sometimes, but it was nice to know I didn't have to pay for breakfast in the morning.
* * * * *
I was so bored last night I decided to drive back to the Rest Area to sleep. I woke up earlier than ever because I had to pee, which is the opposite of what I wanted, so I force myself back to sleep until 10:00a. Having been asleep in the full sunshine for a while though, I'm horribly sweaty, so I take a "bath". Luckily these bathrooms have full height walls and doors, but that doesn't help the old locks were knocked out the doors, so there's a perfect peep hole for anybody who wants a show.
After eating my free biscuit I still go to McDonald's for a drink. I feel like this trip is helping me mend my relationship with the franchise. Maybe you aren't so bad McDonald's. Maybe restaurants can change.
I see the Obamacare guy in McDonald's on his computer, alone, doing the same thing I'm about to be doing at the table across from him: consider me part of the club gentlemen.
I go to the library for a little while before breaking for lunch which involves parking in the back of the Walmart parking lot to eat my burrito. It's here I start to wonder, who else parks in the back of Walmart? Every time I've done it, which is a lot now, there's always other vehicles around. There aren't people in them, so they aren't fellow loiterers. I've got a friend who used to say he'd park in the back because he needed the exercise so he might as well get an easier spot. That makes sense. I see big trucks sometimes pull in because they can't fit in regular spaces. And some people just plain suck at parking and they know it. But some of these are compact cars, perfectly parked, and I never see the owners show up, so they probably aren't inside. What are they doing here?
While here, I also think about shaving my "beard". I use quotes because it's not a real beard. It's an attempt at a beard. Another goal I was trying to accomplish on this trip was to not shave the entire time. I've posted pictures on Facebook of the one time I tried no shave November and how awful it came out, so I quit early. But I figured the easiest time to look like crap would probably be away from everyone I know so no one can hassle me about it. However, it's been one month, and from my beard research, that's normally about the time you can start to trim what you've grown into a beautiful beard butterfly. This is what I have:
It is an atrocity. It is a shame to beard-kind. The hairs that have grown have grown out, yet large portions of the face still have not begun growing hair at all. Not only that, but I've found out having a lackluster beard as such is actually harder when you're around strangers all the time. I'm living off of public lands, using free wifi and electricity: these are the things a homeless person would do, and nobody trust a homeless person. It would actually work to my advantage to be as clean cut as possible if I can't grow a respectable beard. My father has always been a man of a great beard, but it appears bearding, like balding, skips a generation. Luckily, he's already started to run out of hair on his head, so at least I've got something going for me. I send the image to friends who can grow beards and they say it should go. Granted, they aren't always very positive friends, but I think that's why I asked them: I wanted to have more of an excuse out. They say I could do something with the goatee. To me though, a man who can't grow a beard doesn't deserve a goatee: it's just poor compensation. So I decide when I go to Las Vegas, I'll check in a hobo and immediately clean up before going out. That way any Hooters girls who see me on the way in will think the clean shaven me is a much more attractive man than I am: I'll be like my own ugly friend.
I go to the library and then to Starbucks. A friend of another lone man comes in and they start talking. They're complaining about not being able to get jobs due to their age (apparently a bunch of managers in a survey admit they wouldn't hire older workers), and the one who was already there says, "You see all those campers in the back of the Walmart parking lot? They aren't just parked there, they're living out of em like me!" I almost wanted to say, "Amen brother," but figured the fact I willingly gave up my job to live in my car might ruin it.
I grab a couple hot dogs from Sonic and head to a Rest Area again. This time, I go to the Eastbound one. It's strange how Rest Areas right across from each other that clearly used the same blueprints will still have slight difference in them. For instance, only one sink on the Eastbound Rest Area has a stick in it, and the other was push-button: somebody wised up on this side.
* * * * *
I am going to die. How much longer do I have to be here?
I don't want to go to McDonald's, I don't want to go to the library, I don't want to go to Starbucks. I decide to hit a local grocery store. They have pre-made dinners, one of them being spaghetti. There are instructions saying you need to warm it up for 3 and a half minutes and I question whether I can eat it cold.
"They wouldn't...they wouldn't undercook the meat by 3 minutes would they? Like for when you cook it in the microwave?"
This is the thought that passes through my head. Yes, it was a serious thought. But much like you may have, the employees will probably find me ridiculous for it. So I decide to just risk it; if the improperly stored eggs of Pollos Hermanos didn't kill me, I'll survive this.
I go to the Walmart parking lot and eat some. It's way colder than I expected, but I don't exactly complain a lot about cooked food at this point.
I go to the library and write some, not recognizing any of the people around. Then McDonald's...then Starbucks...then the Rest Area. This is killing me. I can't wait to leave tomorrow. I've been wondering how I'm going to handle going back to a normal life. I get to do whatever I want all day right now and the tedium of doing the same thing still bores me. How am I going to feel when I get a job again? I have to do the same thing every day AND I'm not the one in charge of it? Hopefully the money will boost my motivation.
While I wait at the Rest Area I play the craps simulator some more...and I find it. I can't believe it, but I found a strategy based way to consistently win money. Suddenly, I'm nervous. I was okay when I thought I was going to lose all my money, but now I feel like I can win there's actually something on the line. I know I shouldn't feel this way, because the house always wins in the end...but I think I could win some real money on this thing...
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