Wildfires close the highway to Tahoe, our destination of choice for the day. We switch to Plan B, and drive to Reno, NV, instead.
After stopping along the way for yet another In-N-Out burger, we arrive in Reno about 2:00 local time. The city amounts to a flinty, dusty, gritty miniature of Las Vegas — a tough little gambling town draped in flashing neon.
We pick the El Dorado hotel at random and find ourselves in the “deluxe room” minutes later. “Deluxe” apparently means two double beds and a bathroom, making me glad no “Standard” rooms were available. The space is pleasant enough — nicer, in fact, than the similarly-priced hotel room in Sacramento — but there’s nothing deluxe about it.
Unlike Vegas, Reno offers nothing to do … except gamble. We wander the aisles of Keno games, blackjack tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines. Clyde enjoys slots, so he spends some time (and money!) dropping quarters and nickels into the brightly-lit one-armed bandits.
At one point, I suggest that he should just hand me the money. “You can put the dollar in this hand,” I say, “and pull on my other hand. I’ll make a series of electronic blips, and, once every ten tries or so, I’ll give you a quarter.”
This is not well received.
Later, we go to the final performance of the biggest show in town: Burn the Floor. Couples from a dozen nations execute ballroom dance moves set to music from World War Two — an indication, I think, of how old members of the audience are expected to be.
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