Our story continues with four exhausted young men cruising down I-40 through Alburquerque. We were running behind the schedule, so James said we could only have 23 minutes for lunch. This was a huge cut from the hour lunch we had been promised three days earlier.
We decided to stop at the evil empire of restaurants, better known as McDonald's. I call McDonald's this because first of all they did away with the supersize deal. That was a good deal. What was wrong with it? Because people are fat. That's not McDonald's fault, now is it. The second reason they are the evil empire is because they only care about money, like most big businesses. Sure, they give money to charities, like that Ronald McDonald house (except has anyone ever actually seen where this guy lives, I don't think it exists). They only give to charities to look good to the general public.
Let me give an example of their wickedness. While at this McD's, an old lady asked for an empty cup to make a rootbeer float out of. She had ordered ice cream and was going to put it in the cup and fill it up with rootbeer. The manager told her she couldn't do that. She would have to pay for a cup. Can you believe that? It's a piece of cardboard that costs them seven cents to manufacture. Give the lady a cup for goodness sakes.
I was so astonished and disgusted at this display of poor customer service and greed that I decided to do something about it. I stepped right into the men's room, did my business (number 1) and then proceeded to break the urinal by flushing it. That's right. I showed them. It started overflowing and didn't stop. That is street justice.
Actually, I felt really bad when that happened because then Pedro had to come mop it up. Sorry Pedro, my bad.
I also might add Clint got a good view of all this from the stall. He was trying to clean out the pipes, but he had plumbing problems for about three days straight.
After lunch we decided to have another go at horse racing. Chad was unstoppable. I tried to bring myself luck when he was rolling by rubbing the Buddha. That is what I call it when I start rubbing Chad's belly and willing him to lose. It kind of creeps him out, but this time it wasn't doing anything. Chad couldn't lose. I at one time owed him five dollars (betting fifty cents a horse). We had a double or nothing bet and when my single horse of seven only needed one more square to his two, six, eight, eleven, and twelve horse only needing one square, I decided to up the ante. If one of his horses won, I owed him twelve. If my horse pulled it off, he would owe me five dollars. I was rolling the dice. I threw them into the cardboard box. Tensions were high. Every eye (even the drivers) was on what would fall. Then one of the dice didn't make it into the box. I immediately erupted with, "no roll, no roll!" So we rolled again. It was a six, sad. I lost again and that is when I gave up horse racing for a whole hour.
During that hour Clint and I got into a discussion about Indians. Clint is himself part Indian. As we passed a small community of adobes, Clint made sure it was his job to inform us that his people are forced to live in the small clay cubicles.
I felt it was necessary to point out that Indians lived in adobes before the white man even came to America. Clint responded with, "Yeah, but now you force us to live in them and sell jewelry and fireworks."
Since we were running behind the schedule, Chad opted to catch up to the clock. However his method was not without flaws. He would try and speed up to faster travelers by slamming down the gas peddle and power accelerating down the highway. You could actually feel how fast the gas was being pumped into the engine. Chad would find one way or another to stop every 45 minutes. Either bathroom breaks or power accelerating the gas tank empty.
We finally entered Las Vegas, right on time too. Exactly 19 hours after leaving, we were worn out and in need of a good shower. Yet, it was time to start gambling. While traveling down the strip, a car full of young women were checking us out (Clint thinks they were only looking at him though). They honked at us and wanted us to follow them, but Clint would have none of it. Even despite James' nagging about how he needed this. We were on a mission: to kick Vegas in the junk. Our tale will continue here.
8 comments:
So what you're saying is that you didn't rub the toes of the statue as you were passing by the Hoover Dam. But I do remember that you told me that you did...so did you lie?
Anyhoo..I think that you need to step it up a notch, I want to read if you came back with any money or not, before next year.
Hello-
I am Nikole, I work with Cassidy, who has me reading this at 4:50 a.m., because she seems to be amused by it. However, I think it is a bit winded, and let's get to the point already here. As a side note, you sould major in writing, you have a real talent, if you can cut to the short versions darlin'.
Nik
Well Matt-
This is Nikole again, and I have noticed you have a major in journalism, and are wasting your talent at a desk at the Hilton in Dallas. Write freelance and get yourself published. You realize this story, with the exception of a few adjectives, could be published. Submit it, after you get done, to the Little Brown Publishing company, they have an editor that exclusively deals with memoirs, and this would be welcomed I believe. Still, read Stephen King's bio, and drop some of the drama, and you will sell this nonsense and become a very rich man.
Nik
Listen Nik,
the beauty of this story is the fact that Matt is touching on every little detail. If you knew Matt, and the group that went with him, you would realize that this is a form of humor. This is much better than simply writing " we went to Vegas, drove 19 hours, I won some money." My advice to you is to sit back, enjoy the story, and if you want to comment on this, don't.
Matt needs a good kick in the backside. Get out of the Hilton and do something already. Waste of good money for him to be working a front desk at the Hilton. He could of done that out of high school.
Nik -
Could you please lead us in a direction that portrays your writing abilities? Thanks darlin'.
I have just deleted two comments on my blog for two reasons. One was at the request of the writer. He asked me to delete the first one because of a mistake. The second was erased because it was vulgar and although I said I would never censor anyone, it had to be erased. I would appreciate it if there would be no more degrading posts from anyone (especially you Chip, Bubba Gump, Chad).
Recently I posted a comment on this Blog that someone felt was vulgar and degrading. The comment I made was in reference to Nikole’s comment. She was up at the unholy hour of 4:50 am, God knows doing what. She made the comment that Matt’s Blog was “a bit winded and let’s get to the point already.” I just felt that Nicole was a guest here at Mobyd’s and she should act like one. I expressed in the best way I know how, that she probably could use some good lovin at home (2 in the ____ 1 in the _____) I felt that this would get her to ease up a little and behave more appropriately while a guest at someone else’s Blog.
I realize that I also am a guest at Mobyd’s
So Mobyd, I’m sorry I was vulgar and degrading. I am a simple man with a simple mind.
It is difficult to express myself like a mature adult because we all know I’m not one.
So in the future when I have to use vulgar or degrading language I’ll just use a _____ instead.
But for all of those who feel they can handle more than a PG13 rated Blog come on down to Chip’s for a guaranteed rated R good time. www.chip77.blogspot.com/
Open 24/7.
Wednesday’s is Ladies night.
And as always there's No censorship unless your ugly.
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