'Flashing neon blurred through a steamy window'

Flashing neon blurred through a steamy window and she wondered how she got here. Not literally, of course. She was in a car. She had driven to Las Vegas. But why? Why had the sudden urge overtaken her to visit a place she knew she hated.

She had tried to like Vegas, of course, for the sake of George, who loved it. He was here, in fact, somewhere. He had decided to go by himself this time. It was a mutual decision with Daisy but she had felt uneasy about it, even if she hadn’t expressed her concerns. She knew what hotel he was staying at but George liked to hop around, finding the hot tables and the hotter women. Ok, that was unfair, Daisy thought. But, still, she wondered what the real appeal of this city was for him.

Daisy drove to a hotel parking lot downtown. She knew she would find a room easily in one of the older casinos. As she entered the lobby the familiar faint yet penetrating smell of cigarette smoke hit her nostrils. Ah, right, she thought. This is why I hate Vegas. She saw an older woman seated in a Rascal at one of the slot machines, mesmerized. Pushing the button, pushing the button, pushing the button. A trapped rat waiting for its reward.

Once Daisy got to her room she realized it was probably time to call him. Or text? Which would be better? Maybe she would just remain hidden for the whole weekend. Perhaps catch up on her sleep, with the neon flashing in the window. There was a slim chance that she might have some fun but that was a scary thought. She wasn’t sure if she could trust herself in a setting with no conventional social boundaries. Hmmm, that’s an interesting thought, she thought.

She texted George: Hi

She waited.

She turned on the TV. She thought about buying a Vitamix.

She looked at her phone.

She sighed.

George texted back: Hello!

How’s Vegas?

Great! 

Great.

She decided to go for a walk. It was lively on Fremont Street, at least as lively as Fremont Street usually got. She had forgotten the date: 8-8-08. But she remembered quickly when she saw all the brides in their white dresses, one strap hanging down the side while their new grooms assisted them down the street and gave furtive, sheepish looks to passersby. It was a lucky day to get married. Or just a date that was easy to remember, Daisy thought.

George texted back: How are you?

Fine.

Enjoying yourself?

Kinda.

Daisy looked up as the show began on the ceiling of the street. Only Las Vegas would think it had something better to offer than the cosmos, she thought. She watched the show. It was loud and flashy and kind of boring. Then she hailed a cab.

George was staying at Mandalay Bay. Daisy didn’t want to necessarily show up at his doorstep, but she thought she’d at least get near the vicinity. As the neon lights flashed passed her during the ride she wondered again why she was there. Where would she want to be right now? What lay ahead for her? As the cab pulled into the hotel parking lot, Daisy put her phone in her purse, paid the driver, and opened the door to step out into the night.