Ahhh…Laughlin. We embark today upon a mighty roadtrip that shall take us into the grandly titled and less grandly realized “Inland Empire” of California. Now, once you get to that armpit you hang a sharp left and drive until you think you’re lost. Because in some sense you are: because you’re going to Laughlin – scorned by other “major” gambling towns like State Line, Nevada or Winchester Canada.
Part of me hopes that we might have a flat tire and experience some sort of high desert ghost town ballyhoo with the local denizens which will naturally be deformed by the nuclear fallout from the tests in the 50’s. However, I suspect that the best we can hope for is 100+ degree heat and scary fat men flopping their scary hairy bellies into the very pools we might hope to seek refreshment in.
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