Scared like a little girly-girl. No, even more scared than that. I don't think there's a simile that can quite capture the unique state of scared-osity that occured to me as I was flying around up there. What amused me about the souvenir shop was not so much my choice of a Vegas sno-globe and souvenir plate, but the woman ahead of me in line. After examining all the items available in what is surely the world kapital of kitch, she decided to purchase a tasteful set of miniature copper windchimes with a rustic green patina.
People are strange.
I, of course, am perfectly normal. Now it's off to Oatman, California, where wild burros roam the streets and come up to yur car like it's an 'African Burro Safari'. So now they wander the streets in search of carrots and treats. Sadly, I did not capture them on my Pentax, just on the camcorder. Oatie was an old miner who got really off his tits one night and croaked behind the bar, and no one found him till 3 days later.