My son has ALWAYS wanted to go to Las Vegas. I loathe the place (I’m not a gambler and I could go on and on, but I respect the fact that many love it there and I don’t want to get into it). But I found a VERY cheap deal there. The trick was that I had to leave in a week.
I got the time off from work. I was enjoying a window of few symptoms and thought that maybe it would continue and also that maybe the desert heat would do the trick. It was July. The heat would be searing. Nice.
We touched down and walked through the air conditioned concourse. Our luggage promptly coursed along the conveyor belt and we wheeled it off and out the door.
The sliding glass doors gave way to a blast of heat that felt like an industrial strength oven on steroids. The residual aches and pains were beaten to submission by 107 degrees F. My son coughed and grabbed his throat.
“It’s hot out here, Mom. This is awful.” He pouted.
I was in my glory, but knew it would be short-lived. I had to get him somewhere cool.
The trip was divided between airconditioned buildings and the desert sun. I took my son to the pool and let him swim around while I soaked in the sun and savored the dry heat pounding on me from above and below – if you haven’t walked over sun-soaked pavement in the desert, then you’re missing OUT.
We took a trip to the Grand Canyon where it was WARM, but not hot. I was alright with that and so was my son.
We went to Lake Mead. That was STEAMY. It was almost hard to breathe. The temperature was 112-degrees F there. It was unbearable. I snapped a couple of photos, went to the visitor’s center, and drove OUT. My son couldn’t deal with it either. He put his foot in the water and it felt like a bath. The breeze did nothing. You would think being near the water would make you feel cooler. It was like taking a steamy hot shower on a steamy hot day.
We went to Red Rock Canyon. The air conditioned car did wonders for my son. Just when it got to be too much, I’d pull over and take some pictures. My son’s zeal for exploring would keep us outside longer.
We went to Bonnie Springs – a rather cheesy place that replicates the Old West (not an authentic “ghost town…” it’s all stage sets, facades, etc.). It was hotter than hell and the air was still. I loved it. My son did not, but was distracted enough by the environment and the cowboys that it bought me precious time.
The hot air was bliss. BLISS. It was like a full-body heating pad and it sustained me for the longest time after I went back inside. Just what I needed – a vacation from pain.