Furthur

Back on the bus. I fly in from Toronto, Josh and Barb and JP and Richard come from Fargo, where Richard’s 4 hiking sticks and breathing machine cause some hold ups but somehow he makes it on (last on last off of course).

I find them at the car hire desk, where Richard is bribing an employee with slices of cheese and pieces of sausage which he’s slicing off on one of the laminated brochures with a big pocketknife. There’s a big queue gathering behind but eventually we depart with two vehicles and a pretty good deal.

The bright lights of the strip are only about 15 minutes away. A few detours later and we’re at the hotel, where as soon as you come through the front door you hit rows of slots and dead-eyed punters feeding them relentlessly. It’s a barrage of noise and light and air conditioning.

Josh looks slightly shell shocked by the over stimulation of every sense after after the simplicity and slow pace of North Dakota.