Scenes from Las Vegas

It's 8 am, and the self-professed night-owl (who woke, wide-awake ~ to her horror~ at 6 am) is wending her way through the Mandalay Place walkway-cum-shopping-mall in search of coffee. In the middle of the carpet, boogieing unselfconsciously to the dance beat piped in for our listening pleasure are two dorky white boys. They have clearly been up all night and are still inebriated. They are having a wonderful time. I could not help laughing in delight.

There are wheelchairs everywhere. Say what you will, but the Americans with Disabilities Act has clearly made life a whole lot better for a whole bunch of people who used to be shut away, immobile and invisible. Now they are out and about, and they are gambling and gawking and eating to excess just like the rest of us.

I am perpetually chilled here. I didn't bring any long-sleeved shirts, and so I have to wear my jacket all the time. It's a light-weight jacket, and it's not doing a whole lot for me. Being indoors all the time, in artificial light, is adding to my confusion. My body doesn't know what time it is. I went outside once, and the sheer blast of heat and sun served only to disorient me furhter. As always after an airplane flight, I have sniffles. Basically, I suspect I'm going to be a complete basket-case by the time I get home.

Still 'n' all, Vegas is fun!