I took the above photo from my hotel room in Reno. I booked a room at the Sands the day that I was to arrive. The Sands is about the equivalent of an Arizona Charlie's. The room was absurdly large, clean, had marble tables, and an "ok" view. The rest of the hotel was filled with drunk people and drug dealing teenagers. The staff was courteous and I even met a 27 year old waitress from Dearborn. I never did figure out what brought her to Reno.
I should back up, I got to Reno by way of van. I waited until the last minute to get a plane ticket and every flight was booked. I contacted the Obama campaign and they set me up in a van with seven strangers for $40. Vegas to Reno is about an eight hour trip. The people that I traveled with were very cool and had good hygiene. There were two teachers, two government workers, a small business owner, a construction worker, and an accountant. I told my students that with my luck I would get stuck in a van of gassy old ladies. I guess I got lucky and they were on the "Straight Talk Express."
We arrived in Reno at midnight, I checked into my room, and promptly went to the nearest bar where some college students introduced themselves to me and invited me to sit at their table. One guy explained to me that people in Reno, "love to drink and get into fights." That should have been my cue to leave. About 45 minutes later the guys from my table got up and began a street fight which their girlfriends and myself could see out of the window. The next thing that happened was the girlfriends and random guys jumping out of said window into the street and commencing to brawl. I was left at the table alone receiving dirty looks as if I was one of the troublemakers. I finished my beer, walked back to my dirt ball hotel, got some Arby's, and sat with the servers in Mel's Diner.
The next day was the convention. I took a cab to the Grand Sierra grabbed my credentials and headed inside. I was shocked at how normal the delegates were. I expected to see wild-eyed zealots asking people, "Have you heard the good news?" Most of the people were newly registered voters. The conventions usually draw a few hundred people. This cycle there were a few thousand. It was also surprising to find that the general atmosphere was positive. People were less angry and more hopeful.
1. Creepiest Hotel: The Clown Motel located outside of Tonapah, Nevada.
2. Best Candy Store in the Mojave: Death Valley Candy and Nut Co. This place is surreal. Aisle upon glorious aisle of bulk candy in large plastic bags.
3. Tightest Jean Shorts of the weekend: Large woman from rural Nevada sleeping in a chair at the convention. I thought that there was a major artery that runs down the thigh. I was seriously concerned about her blood flow. Maybe it was a trickle and that is why she was sleeping. I know that this is mean but sleep-squatting in skin tight jeans is also mean.
4. Most Sensitive Person of the weekend: A guy sitting two rows in front of me that volunteered for everything and wept at every speech.
5. Shady Character of the weekend: The crazy big guy that claimed he knew me while we were stopped in Hawthorne, Nevada. I tried to convince him that he had never seen me before in his life but he was not buying it. He had a rubber smile on his face and watched me climb back into the van. He kept asking me if I could, "feel it." I will never know what he meant by that.
The convention went amazingly well. It was the largest political convention in Nevada's history. It was a long day of listening to speeches, walking around looking for go karts, and voting. It was (is) a worthwhile experience to be a part of something historic. The photos below are of Bill Clinton (blurry on purpose), a giant abandoned Hillary sign, Circus Circus, and a gas station in the middle of Nevada.
For those of you in the Mother Mitten, we will see you Memorial Day
well and slept 
the majority of the time.
