Flamingo Road.
It cuts the Strip in half.
It leads to the new, pretty homes on the west, and to the weekly motels, smoky casinos and fast food restaurants that feed the preps, jocks, stoners and homeless on the east.
I used to live right off of it. I watched a tagger deface its sign. I watched a van full of Asian tourists flip over on it. My truck broke down on it. Several times. I traveled on it more times than I can count, on the bus, in cars, in trucks, in a moving van, on bikes, on skateboards. I traveled on it with people I loved, people I envied, people that are now all over this country.
The road means a lot to me. I can't imagine my life without it. And, like the city it serves, I'm perfectly satisfied allowing it to live in memory alone. I have a desire to remember it, to keep it alive in my mind, but I have absolutely no desire to see it again.
Sporatic thoughts intertwined with photos and comments from truly excellent folks.
2 comments:
Beautifully done. I admit to a little nudging when I gave you this word. It's one that reminds me of our high school days, eating corn dogs and eating coke and maybe, err, probably not, making it back for the last half of our schoolday. It's a street that cuts right through my teenage years as well as the city that still grips me in some strange, metaphysical way but that I too never want to see again.
Beautiful work.
umm don't forget DESTROYING my beautiful Toyota while pulling out of Smith's in the rare LV rain! Thats ok, have I told you I have forgiven you? After all I was able to then purchase a PURPLE FORD ASPIRE, got love that!
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