ach, I could tell, one inch in the wrong direc- tion, and this would all end in utter psychosis. To stay grounded, I chain-smoked joints stued into the American Spirit cigarettes Ford had emptied to make his splis. I had a full box. e other two pued incessantly on their vape pens. We had to pull ourselves out of this muck. Get some adderall. Find some beers… a so place to crumble into pieces. We absolutely needed to make it back to the hotel room. Past the large, slowly evolving Hard Rock Guitar, we shued in a daze. Not even know- ing where we were going other than the one direction. Acknowledging, but barely rocked by the random eyesores of magnitude. Pirate ship - sure, conjures some pre-millenium vaca- tion memories… Gondolas? Why not, maybe later? We almost stopped at Madame Tousad’s but knew we'd suer a freakout, right when the shoe dropped. Already it glowed like the streets of London. Most of the side eye came from 10-gallon hats. Goddamn cowboys everywhere, the entire extras tent from a Hallmark Christmas lm. e other crowd was from AWS, which sounded like the more interesting carnival
anyway (the “ ex” was tech bros ying in by helicopter on Monday, Ford said). One attendee ran into us, asking where the Beck concert was. Beck, with an orchestra! He was frantic! He was missing it. And so were we… Ignore the urge to follow ... But we had all these bags. And we were aching to crash. Maybe we should get a beer. Next casino? We would not stop halfway as planned for a drink, but rather, at the Linq, one whole casino away from our destination. Ok. If all went according to plan, we could… get our heads straight, nd some ne dining for our last din- ner in town, then hit the party before all the big names le. Simple… But something was happening to us. e phones weren’t working, ngers weren’t work- ing, legs… no. is was de nitely happening. ere was no turning back, we were about to go over the edge… Sweating but cold. Eyes, fogging over… pushed like a tsunami, knocked down in slow motion. “Shit, oh shit,” Ford breathed heavily, backing away from his half- drank beer. “Do we go back to the room?” Huxley asked. “...Yes. Oh shit. Oh, shit. ”
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