Two Hawks went to bed. Two Hawks stayed up until dawn drinking and gambling. Those two Hawks are in great pain today as the temperature is once again soaring into the 120s. Will we make it home without puking along the side of the road? Stay tuned to the ISHILA Blog to learn the verdict. We are a band which knows the foolishness and danger of venturing into Vegas with our hard-earned tour dough in our pockets. Perhaps if we were of sound mind we would’ve passed on through Sin City or perhaps slept in peaceful St. George across the Utah border free from all of Nevada’s tempations. But our collective mind is not sound. We are weary travelers lured in by the bright lights and magnificent absurdity of this electric desert oasis-mirage. Vegas wins. Vegas always wins. And during the drive back that most physical of pains is fully realized.
This morning we gave PM $50 each to stake him in poker, and he played Texas Hold-em for about three hours, battling weak cards and very competent players, ending up $40 down when it was time to hit the road for home. Paul was playing at Binion’s, perhaps the oldest operating casino in Las Vegas and a home base for good card players, who prefer it to the squares-infested family casinos on the Strip. He held his own, and knew when to fold ’em. Now it’s 3:51 p.m., we’re twenty miles from Baker, hazy skies, silence in the Hawks Suburban rolling downhill with minimally effective AC. Music would churn the delicate innards of the two Hawks party animals. Time to reflect, and fill in a narrative gap.