The Truth is Out There: Area 51, Nevada

Strange things happen in this desert. Lights are seen at night, strange craft flies over head. At times it's just madness from the sun, but might there be something more to it?

I'll level with you – I don't really care if there are spaceships at Area 51 or not, but since I was a child headed to a Florida X-Files convention with my mother when I was just a wee little one, midway through the first season, I had wanted to see Area 51. I read books on it in the pre-internet days, and found much more after than time. I was a wee bit obsessed. I'm not sayin' I think there are aliens there, but there are UFOs. During the first Desert Storm they flew their triangular stealth craft from there leading to all sorts of sightings. It is a secret military base with so much history – and I needed to see it.

The only problem? It's in the middle of nowhere. And it's not exactly open to the public.

We left Vegas in the morning and headed on down the Extraterrestrial Highway. Oh yes, that is its real name. There are signs and everything. This highway leads along the eastern side of the base, hitting absolutely nothing for miles (gas up early and often) except for the town of Rachel. Now I've been familiar with Rachel, and the Little A'Le'Inn since Mulder headed out that way in the X-Files. Never did I think I would walk through those doors.

Yet there I was, in the very place Mulder had used as a base to discover the truth at work around him. I was there. A diner, mostly, it also sells a number of tacky treasures. The one thing I was interested in was a map. The map to Area 51. It sells for thirty five cents and comes with warnings, and detailed instructions. It's worth the purchase if you want to head on out to the limits of legality.

We thought about getting a room, but the base was twenty miles back the way we came. Driving there and driving back? It seemed a bit much. So off we went, back down the Extraterrestrial Highway to Mailbox Road.

Mailbox Road (also on maps) gets its name from the black mailbox that used to be situated there, all mysterious like. Now the mailbox isn't actually black these days – it was replaced with a white one a decade and a half ago. Probably a PR move by the government to seem less sneaky, or by the guy who owns it – tired of people breaking into it looking through his mail for alien secrets.

The box is covered in stickers and graffiti – ufo seekers hang out here for camp outs, and gatherings. Apparently many UFOs are seen here. Group mentality? Flairs for night practices? Spy planes? Alien craft? You decide. But this is where you turn. Head nine miles own the bouncy dirt road, and turn, then you're headed on a much larger dirt road – worn down by the bus that brings workers in in the morning, and out in the afternoon – towards the gate.

It seems as if we're fifteen years too late. I'm not the same paranoid I used to be, Area 51 hasn't been the same since Google Maps showed it off, and the government copped to it existing, and the signs at the boarder were replaced, no longer the terrifying threats they once were.

Also the mountain view point that once allowed legal peeks into the secret base (how did they miss that?) has been taken away through re-zoning. I'm also now at the age where I understand why the military would take away and keep secret aspects of their planning. I no longer assume it's nefarious.

But – standing on the gravel, near the Groom Lake boundaries, I felt a great thrill. This was a childhood dream realized. There's nothing else to say – it was amazing to finally achieve something I'd wanted to for the better part of my life. I didn't think I'd ever get here. I didn't even think it was real, in the sense that tables, chairs, and the country of Australia are real.

But there I was, with the guards in their grey trucks keeping a watchful eye from the hills above. Were I to step across the line I would be instantly arrested, and fined hundreds of dollars.

Katherine may not have been as excited, the fear of arrest strong in her, as I stepped closer and closer to the line. But as we turned, and started to drive out, even she had to admit how cool it was to come this close to THE Area 51. Americana at its best.

It was a thing of beauty.

Another security truck passed us as we drove out. I wonder what they think, having to remain out in the desert heat watching as tourists flock in and out and in and out. I wonder what they think the tourists think they'll see. I don't know what I thought I would see? I saw more at the A-Bomb site then here, but this was different. It was special. It was such an important spot, my own personal Mecca.

I may not be the same type who thinks the government and military are evil and out to get us – but the importance of this place in pop cultural lore, and my own inner self... well this was a pilgrimage through the desert, and I was not disapointed.

Heading forever away from the site, we returned to Vegas, stopping in at the Pinball Hall of Fame. Here over one hundred machines recount the living history of the game. And you can play them all – proceeds going to charity. You can play games, and feel good about it too.

None of them matched up to the Pirates machine I spent time with in Vegas, but looking over decades of them was something unique. I also played Mario as an arcade machine. Strange thing, that – if it was originally designed for the arcades, that makes sense why the warp zones are so easy to get to.

I changed many a bill for quarters, coming a few steps closer to completing our American State quarter collection. That seven have eluded us this long is ridiculous. Especially with Virginia, and Connecticut haunting every handful of change. Where are you Texas? Where are you.

With that behind us we set out on our final drive of the day, which soon took us into night. We were off to Death Valley, California. A national park with an eerie name. Also home to WWE's The Undertaker. In fiction, if not real life.

By the time we rolled in the night had fallen, allowing for some beautiful pictures of the moon, the sky, the stars, and the mountains in the foreground. But what the night had not brough was cool air. It was hot, and terrible, and awful.

Lying in the tent we sweat and sweat. it was the most uncomfortable I'd been in some time. Triple digit nights are no ones friends. I had the tent aligned with the wind, but Kath thought otherwise, so turned it, with much effort. Minutes later the tent was nearly blown away with us in it. Clearly mistakes had been made. Once more we turned it.

I was not doing well. Sickness had hit me hard, and it was all I could do to stay awake long enough to drink water.

Soon I would pass out for the night.

Apparently the sickness helped me here. I was sick so I sweat more. The wind cooled the sweat, and I was comfortable enough to sleep. Katherine did not sweat, was not cooled, and got – at most – two hours of sleep during the long disgusting night.

Death Valley. Well, what did we expect?

A Final Night in Vegas

Waking up early I tried to catch up on my blogging. Why did I think that writing at least one blog a day was the way to go? And why couldn't I be like most people who just throw down a paragraph before making their merry way across the interweblands? No – I decided that I had to log everything. A small entry for me is one thousand words. Taking about half an hour to write one of those, catching up once I had fallen behind was proving to be an issue.

Take into account the failing keyboard (the D key still not working very well at all – see if you can spot all the places where it should be, but is for some reason vacant. An instead of And is a big one.) and this was not going great. Still, I tried this morning [authors note: this entry is for the 19th of August, and is being written on the 22nd. Clearly catch up methods have not been going well.]

When Katherine woke up I thought my blogging would be at an end, and I would have to go out into the world. Now it's not that I don't like going out into the world – I do. It's just since I'd started I just wanted to catch up and let the world become a good and normal place again. Writing a day or two late – a week in some cases – leads to so many things being forgotten – and the tone is more rushed, as I'm trying to work through a great many rather than focusing on just one.

My time was not yet over, however, as she suggested she would go get breakfast. Having someone bring you breakfast? It's a wonderful thing. Perhaps this is how she felt in Florida – always waking up to a ready meal?

As all things do, however, this ended and it was once more away from the computer and into the scary bear infested world out of doors. I'm told there are no bears in the desert, but this is Vegas. Who knows what monsters lurk here?

When we headed out we first made our way to the Tix4Tonight booth. This is where you can pick up discounted tickets for shows, and all that good stuff. We wandered down and stood in line trying to figure out what we should see. In my mind it was down to two: Holly Madison – Peep Show (because is there a more Vegas show than something of that nature? It would have been a cultural experience) or some Cirque de Soleil. You know – the French Canadians who suspend themselves from ropes and wear strange costumes?

But even still – what one. It seemed every casino had one of these shows going – there was Ka, which looked pretty cool. There was one, O, with ex-olympians. There was Zumanity which was a sexualized show – merging culture with the Vegas flair. Even the Chris Angel show was one of them. Eventually we settled on the one playing across the street at the Mirage: Love.

That would be showing at seven at night. It was still early – after winning a few bucks on slots (lucky 7 with five lines, five credits a line being the way to success here... betting more than five credits would have won me more, but I fear the losing of money) I was about to leave the Mirage, after picking up our newly purchased tickets. But Katherine was in a jealous mood. She could not stand to see me win. So once more, in her now famous fashion, she bet some money – managed to get ahead, but failing to stop reduced it all to nothing. Again, we only play with a buck or two so the losses aren't great – only the damage to the pride.

Next up? Treasure Island. You need to take a tram to this place, and it's a pretty good looking casino. Inside there is a carved mammoth tusk. I'd seen these before (always assuming they were elephant in the past) but I'm never less than impressed. To see all the intricate carvings, all the many figures so perfectly sculpted – all without breaking the piece? It's incredible. Give me a time machine, and I'd love to be able to look into the past, watching as it was formed.

There was also a neat-o motorcycle custom job thingy that I'm sure car and bike people would be into – but, you know... I don't know about that stuff, except for it had a siren face with cool light up blue eyes.

Getting to Treasure Island was no problem but leaving was. To cross the street we had to walk a bridge west, then a bridge north, then one east. All this took thirty minutes, and with no water – the sun hot – this was not a good situation. We then failed to navigate our way from the Venetian (I've seen that bridge before – in Venice) and all looked lost, until the welcoming golden arch appeared before us.

Love it or hate it, but a 32oz refillable drink for only a buck, full of Poweraid, Light Lemonaid, soda, or just plain water? That's as near perfection as I've ever seen.

Figuring we'd take the rest of the day easy we went back to the hotel and headed off to the pool. It was before six, so it would be open. Of this we were sure. We changed, headed out, and saw the great watery expanse before us. Hopping in we were quickly told to get out – someone puked in it. It was closed. Swim fail two. Going in the hot tub instead, it was soon discovered that hot water under the hot sun is not a good combination.

Back to the room. We decided our next action? The Buffet. Our hotel had the cheapest of the local buffets at only nineteen dollars. Now while we assumed it would not be good, were we to avoid this Vegas experience we would think back with regret. It was – I don't want to say terrible, but for that price, I'd not do it again. I think you were supposed to tip – but it was confusing as we paid our bill before we could eat. All I know is I did my best to eat for an hour, and then tapped out.

There was nothing that stood out.

On the TV Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift was playing. It may be surprising to learn that I love these movies, despite knowing nothing about cars. I still like to see them all flashy and wonderful. And Tokyo – I like that. And Drifting (like Initial D without all the unnecessary, “it's Japanese!” incest, and long unending character development.) I watched an hour, before we had to go. Part of me, only mostly kidding, suggested we blow off Love – which we each spent one hundred dollars on. But no, off to Mirage to watch the show. I'd never seen a Cirque show before, and was pretty excited. Not Penn and Teller excited, but I was into it.

Love is a show set to the music, time, and vague-ish story of The Beatles. Everyone knows the Beatles, and everyone loves the Beatles – those who say otherwise are liars. Now, I may not have known much of their music until five years ago when a friend at the time played me most of their albums back to back, but even before then I knew they were something special. That album, you know, where they all walk across the street? That's a goodie.

The performance started with the bombing of Liverpool in the forties, which then led to the Eggman (coo coo cachoo) trying to retain control of a country looking to change. A “tea man” pouring smoke and water from his silver pot moved across the stage providing for all. A loosely veiled metaphor for LSD. Soon colours were rippling, people were descending from above, and madness was taking hold. For one number a sheet covered the crowd, and only us in the cheap seat could see. The others were trapped in the world below.

They even worked in Octopuses Garden (my favourite Beatles song – despite protests of just about everyone who learns this fact.)

For an hour and a half there was action, acrobatics, and music – beautiful, beautiful music played from speakers worked into each and every chair in the house. It was an event, and one that I was glad to have seen.

Katherine would later recount how it made her feel like a child – looking in awe, not caring about anything but the spectacle. I envied this, almost embracing this mind set the night before, but still feeling somewhat removed. Still – it was a fantastic show, and one that I would recommend to just about anyone.

For one hundred and fifty dollars (the asking original price) it would still be a thing to witness.

With show ended we made out way back. There was a desire to dance it up, and buy a five foot tall drink that can only be worn around one's neck – but it was late, tomorrow would be an early day, and – though I hate to say it, I was becoming sick. I could feel it – in my bones.

Penn and Teller: Live in Las Vegas

Woke up late. Sleep was needed. Too much camping on rocks does not a body do good.

At the same time as I wanted sleep, I also didn't want to let the day get away from me. I mean, how often will I be in Vegas? So up I got, showered, and then woke Katherine. She was not as eager as I, but as it was almost noon it was a justifiable waking, I felt.

We headed out, grabbed some McGrub, and then caught the shuttle from Harrah's down to the Rio. There is nothing like a free shuttle bus. Vegas would be a perfect place to vacation – you fly in (just make sure you fly into Las Vegas, Nevada – not Las Vegas, New Mexico... I wonder how many people have done that?) then grab your shuttle from the airport to your hotel. Once you're there everything is in walking distance. Well, everything you're liable to want to see.

In the Rio we picked up the tickets for Penn and Teller that we ordered way back in Florida. Katherine was over stimulated looking at all the pretty colours – me, I was hyperactive knowing that soon I'd see Penn and Teller's live show. And afterwards, maybe ever get to meet them!

Giddy giddy, we headed through the floor. So many slot machines, all looking the same. I had no desire to play any, and joked about how they were all the same, except the faceplate. Then I saw an Aliens slot machine. Yes, yes, they're all the same – but Aliens. With the annoying cat, and the chest bursters, and the monsters from nightmares.

I proceeded to lose my dollar. In went another. It was lost – but I cashed out with one cent left. The awarded me a slip labeled Rio, with my one cent winnings. Scrap book material? I think so.

On our way out, I saw a Deal or No Deal machine – I tossed in a dollar, pressed the spin button and chose some cases. A few seconds later my one dollar had transformed into sixteen and change. I can see the appeal of this whole gambling thing.

Katherine wanted to win too, and so she slipped in some money, pressed spin – and nothing. No cases. Apparently I got a lucky spin first off, while she got nothing. It was sad, and tragic – but I had some money, and was feeling pretty good. I know, I know, fifteen dollars – still it would cover all my gambling losses for the next few days, and that was something.

It should be noted that I'm not a big gambler.

Is it obvious?

We played a few more slots – I won another dollar on video black jack, and then we caught the shuttle back to The Strip and explored some more. This day would take us into Bally's to see their giant fake insects – a garden full of small things made of large flowers that you can walk through and ohh and awe over. Then we'd pass the Bellagio – shooting its fountains into the air. And then would come Caesars Palace.

This is a monster of a Casino. It's more of a small town. It takes up a full city block, and has a hotel, restaurants, an arcade for children, an art museum, and a huge mall with all the designer labels.

When I thought of Vegas this is what I thought of – though just in small casino form. Back in the days of the green and black screened Game Boy I had the Caesars palace game. Even back then I wasn't much on gambling – I would just head to roulette, place the bet on black, and hope to double up. I kept leaving in a taxi cab, rather than the limo.

I wish I'd paid more attention to the rules of the games. Craps looked fun, but I didn't know how to play. Roulette, I'll stay away from until I know the odds. Black Jack was too much at the tables, with a five dollar minimum (remember, I'm still a poor traveller here.) Video Black Jack once more.

After watching for a bit and seeing me win a whole seventy five cents, Katherine decided to get in on the action. She played for a good ten to fifteen minutes on her dollars – at times more than doubling her play price, but each time wanting more – more – more. Ultimately she lost everything, claiming, “I could play this all day.”

There's a terrible monster – I call him GAMBLOR!

Betting with only dollar bills, a loss was never all that bad. It was worth the moments of fun – far more enjoyment than out of a quick arcade game... except skee ball. Nothing beats that sport of kings. Unfortunately there was none to be found.

Near the art gallery there was a pin ball machine, which got me three games for a quarter (one and a half credits already existing in the machine, and winning a third game with the game over Match.) The game? Pirates of the Caribbean. By far my favourite pin ball game. I wonder if there's a way to make it mine? E-Bay perhaps? [note: it exists – for six thousand dollars. No thanks.]

The mall offered another extreme. It was designed just like one I'd seen in Tokyo years back – to look like you're outside in Europe. I wonder what the connection, if any, is. In the mall there are two fountains that come to life for a show – one is about Atlantis where fire and water are used as weapons. The other is supposed to depend on projected images on the ceiling, but the projectors were down. When the statues talked about how amazing something looked we were all left wondering what it might have been. Kath and I bailed on this to check out the Apple Store. She has a new love of iPads and was introduced to PvZ (so much time I wasted in Sydney playing that.)

Wandering back to our hotel at six, we figured on a quick dip in the pool before Penn and Teller. This was not to be, however – as (complaint number two) the Imperial Palace closes their pool at six p.m. In Vegas? Really? Apparently so.

No swimming. Just a moment or so crashing in the room before heading back to The Rio.

We had bought VIP seats – nine dollars more than regular seats, but it got you in the first few rows, and came with a free 30 page book. The book was the program – and it sold for ten bucks. Really we made money, had we wanted the program, which we would have, as it is awesome.

Inside Penn tells the tale of Tellers life, and Teller of Penn. Who knew Teller used to teach Latin? And who knew of the hardships they worked through to reach their fame. Both are straight edge. There's also a comic where they show some tricks. And, they bash Chris Angel. What more could you ask for? This was quality work.

Before the show started I also picked up a deck of cards for sale at the gift shop, in hopes of getting them to sign it after the show.

The show was as fantastic as I hoped. Their comedy with a purpose educates as it entertains. In one moment they explain tricks, while adding their own elements so that what you have revealed is not the same as the trick they're running. They also hid a phone in a fish – using the phone to video the whole thing. Youtube will show you this if you search for penn and teller fish phone.

One of their final bits, the burning of the Flag is a powerful moment, and followed by their double bullet catching trick. There's a desire to want to know the answers, while at the same time I just wanted to enjoy – and that's the stance I took this night. Who cares how it's done – just be amazed.

By the time the show ended, I wanted nothing more but for it to continue. I wanted to see it another night. Each night they add and take away different bits, so seeing it again could be a very different experience.

But it had come to an end. We were all shuffling out of the theatre, only to meet with throngs of people in circles. The two were signing autographs. Teller signed my program and my cards. His voice was not at all what I was expecting. He sounded much more gruff than I would have thought – a real Jersey boy. Apparently it's not all terrible that comes from there.

Then there was Penn, calling everyone Boss. He too signed my book and my cards.

On the shuttle back home, I thought about how super ultra cool it all was. Giddy like a child I told myself I'd learn a card trick or two. Now that I have cards signed by them, I almost feel like I have to. On a trip with few souvenirs this was an excellent one.

Still filled with excitement and glee I passed off into sleep. Tomorrow would be our final full day in this city of potential Sin.

Viva Las Vegas

Time to say good bye to the Grand Canyon. Waving our hands, we thought we had done our part. However, the Grand Canyon did not seem ready to leave us behind just yet. Really it was my fault – you think I would have known about following a GPS after the BC incident, but no – I do not learn. Now, I know for a fact I had dirt roads checked as “avoid” but, never trust that. When a road become dirt, check or no check, pause and reevaluate.

Following the GPS I scoffed at signs saying the exit was the other way. After all, what do signs know? After all, it's not like they're there to help direct people to the exit. No, we seemed to be following a truck suited to off roading. Strange, that. It took us through the village up in Grand Canyon. There is a whole town here, and a school, and everything. Crossing Guards were helping wee ones not get run over by the likes of me.

How strange would it be to grow up on the Grand Canyon?

Now just past this town was where the road became dirt, leading to back country. I protested that the GPS knew what it was doing, but Katherine was the voice of reason – turning us around and heading out the proper way. Fifteen minutes wasted, but disaster averted. I don't think I'd even call it a waste, we never would have seen the town up here otherwise.

Outside the park we found ourselves, once more, on the historic route 66. This meant all number of towns with touristy shops, such as the one just a block down from the good ol' Road Kill Cafe (with names far cooler than the actual menu items. Still, we had to stop in, as I had the poster for this place way back when I thought it was cool to hang posters on my wall.) This shop had a number of scandalously costumed female manikins standing on the roof. If nothing else, it allowed me to get a post card. For weeks I have been carrying a stamp around with me in my pocket. One day, I trusted, I would be able to post a card to Kath from North America (thus insuring she was sent a postcard from all the continents.) Never mind she was beside me when I went to the post office and mailed it – it's the completion that counts. The Gotta Catch 'em All mentality.

Down the highway another route 66 side show would present itself. Fred Flintstones' diner. There was a giant egg plant and volcano, and other things in the back. To see them proper would have cost five dollars. I had no money for that. The Eggplant reminded me, strangely not of Kid Icarus, or Captain N – but instead of the McDonald's happy meal toy from the first time I went to Disney World. It was an Eggplant car a Fraggle would ride in. But never mind all this.

Outside the Flintstones land was a dinosaur made out of metal car parts. It was like the baby of Truck-a-Saurus. Taking a picture, I felt the stop was worthwhile.

We entered into Nevada. Now, entering into Nevada from Arizona is not a passage without some interesting sights. There is no main highway – instead there is a passage that requires a security check, and then a slow drive over something amazing. The Hoover Dam. The Dam is just enormous. I'd seen it in movies, of course, but to be there and drive across it – that was something else. I could have paid the seven dollar to park and walk it, looking down the sheer drop, but I received view enough from the car. I would have liked to have toured the facility, but the cheaper shorter tour can only be booked online. Who does that?

As we crossed over, we made our way to a Nevada welcome centre. Inside there was free wifi access. This would be important as we needed some confirmation numbers for Las Vegas tickets.

We also discovered that 'back in the day' Nevada had a “Miss Mushroom Cloud.” One atomic bomb a month was detonated here. What could possibly go wrong?

Once you're over the boarder getting to Las Vegas is a matter of minutes. It's checking in that's the hard part. The Strip appeared in front of us, opening up like a wonderland of sights and sounds and worlds coming together – Pyramids beside the New York skyline, just down from the Eiffel Tower. When we rolled up to our place, the Imperial Palace, it took a while to learn where we should park our car. The sign only visible once you've turned the corner you may not have otherwise known to turn. Then you try and find a spot – good luck.

After that, we walked the stairs down, not knowing where the elevator was located. The Imperial Palace, it's not a bad place – but signs... it needs more signs. You could over hear people in the casino, and in the elevators all remarking about the same thing. But that would come later – once we'd checked in .

To check in you need to wait your turn. And oh the wait it is. I could have lined up to ride the Harry Potter ride at Universal before we got our room key. A woman in front of us pulled out her watch, timing each person at fifteen minutes to get to the counter, grab their key and leave. With five windows open, we still stood in line for an hour. Never did we learn what the hold up was. We walked up, got our key, and left. Fast as lightening.

We dragged our bags back across the casino floor to the elevator, rode to our room, tossed our gear on the bed, and then made our way back down, out, and to the strip.

Neither of us had been to Vegas before, and looking out we didn't know where to begin. Picking a direction, left, we started walking. The first casino aside from our that we came to was Paris. Out front the Eiffel tower rose into the air. As if that were not impressive enough, the inside was designed to look like the streets surrounding the land mark. Clouded sky was the ceiling, and the legs of the structure came down through the building itself.

Walking through we marveled at the flashing lights, pleasing sounds, and moving images everywhere. No doubt this was a land made to take advantages of our most primal desires – flashy, soundy, coloured things... voices of angels.

A hallway behind was made to look like a strip of cafes and restaurants. People dined in the faux Parisian night. It was something to behold. Unfortunately, this is the most impressive Casino we saw on the strip, and seeing this first may have set expectations a bit high.

The Flamingo was just a casino – nothing too fancy. But down the street was the MGM Grand. If Matt Good lyrics didn't make me care, the giant lion out front did. Inside there is a lion habitat – but we were too late. It had closed hours earlier. Across the street was New York, New York – similar to Paris, but with an American theme, and a roller coaster far too pricey to ride going through the false skyline.

Further down was the Pyramid Luxor. It sent a beam of light straight off into the night sky.

These were the buildings of legend, of iconic pop culture, of – Vegas.

We next sought out food. Having walked five hours, we were hungry and tired. Vegas was said to have cheap buffets. People lie. Cheap is 17.99, and they range to over forty dollars. Sure you can buy an eat all day pass for a chain of seven casinos – but who could make use of that?

No – this would not be for us. The value menu at the Mackers would do. Refillable soda for a buck, a side salad for the same, and some dollar McDoubles. It may not sound all that great to you – but it was damned tasty, and compared to the buffets, probably the healthy option too.

Top 10 Ways to Spend $300.00 ($316.00 to be exact)

Three hundred and sixteen dollars. That’s how much I spent on my gear. Now, in theory, that’s not a lot of money. But really – it’s not a little bit either. I thought, just for fun (and to help dry my tears of post-shopping sorrow), that I would look at all the other things I could have bought for three hundred and sixteen dollars.


10748 Black Cherry gum balls
Ten thousand, seven hundred, and forty eight gum balls. I could, like some sort of humanoid insect, chew all day, to create a sort of hardened paste with which to line my room, protecting me from the dangers outside. Or, I could – very practically – consider myself owner of a lifetime supply of gumballs (factoring a starting chew rate of one per day, with a 5% monthly drop off as the novelty wears thin.) More realistically though, I could pull some fantastic, and unappreciated, pranks.


11 cases of Red Cap
While this might not seem to be the most novel suggestion, it’s still worth noting. With eleven cases of beer, I could watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy without complaining once. I could probably make it through the Denise Richards: It’s Complicated marathon, courtesy of Rogers On Demand Channel 100, remaining interested the whole time. Why with eleven cases of Red Cap, I’d have enough beer to last through my winter hibernation. And wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing?


2 dozen toy guns
With three hundred and sixteen dollars, not only could I buy well over two dozen two guns, but I could also guy a gun rack to facilitate the proper display of these items. All future visitors would marvel at my collection of “Modern Police Style Toy Gun”, proudly mounted beside the “Frontier Toy Flint Lock Cap Pistol with realistic firing sound.” Yes, I certainly would be the talk of the town for some time to come.


6 sets of Garbage Pail Kids cards
With each set having dozens of cards a piece, I could not only be a completist / collector, but also a hobbyist in the wide world of GPK card collecting. I’d have pictures of small children turning into dinosaurs, with witty names. Others would have atomic clouds above their heads. Still more would be surrounded by pain and misery, brining nothing but pure nostalgic joy to all those who gaze upon them. Sadly there would be no traders in this lot. Only full sets, as each card in placed, gingerly, in its plastic protective sheet.


31 Blue Jays tickets
Thirty one chances to watch the boys in blue lose in the bottom of the ninth, failing due to an aging pitching staff and a poor showing in the offensive lineup. More importantly, though, it would offer me thirty one chances to yell, scream, and pretend to be part of something larger than myself. Also – with my track record of winning the “Fan of the Game” contest twice (proving to be more obnoxious than over twenty thousand other people) I might also walk away with another years supply of lottery tickets. That only produced five dollars in actual winnings. The cheque was never cashed. Damn.


4 nights in Vegas
A four night trip to Las Vegas could have been mine, but no – I needed a rain jacket. Something to keep me dry and comfortable for a year. Sure, that sounds like a great trade off in the long run, but I’ve found it’s always best to think short term. In, being Las Vegas, little bits of money could become more money. People always gain money when they gamble in Vegas right? That’s why there are so many casinos operating, yes? They act as public charity houses?


53 packages of Bacon Flavoured Dental Floss
Fifty! Three! Packages! Fifty three packages of anything is exciting, but fifty three packages of something bacon flavoured? Now we’re in the wonder zone. Imagine having brushed your teeth, your mouth sadly missing the flavour of pork rinds crumbled on your pulled pork sandwich, enjoyed with a side of mouth watering baby back pork ribs. Your tongue would crave the attention of more pig-flavoured goodness, but your teeth, fearful of gingivitis would protest. No longer need those two worlds stand opposed.


100 comic books
One hundred comic books. Two thousand four hundred pages of paneled art, interconnected in such a way that a cohesive and connected story could emerge. Why, I could splurge on the entire 100 Bullets series. Hours of reading entertainment at my fingertips, creating a web of deceit and urban exploitation all from behind the safety net that is the recycled-paper fourth wall.


16 Glow-in-the-Dark Ouija Boards
With sixteen Ouija boards that not only profess to contact the nether realms, but also glow in the dark, thirty two people could engage in extra-spiritual communication. A virtual light show of pale green auras would shine through the night, provided they were given enough time to charge under any household lamp. For quick fixes, flashlights can be used to supercharge specific areas. Full glow will not be in effect in these supplemental cases.


0.0001% of an Abandoned Missile silo
That’s right, with you chipping in with only ten thousand of your closest friends, you can be the proud owner of a decommissioned Missile silo. Sure, some people will have traveled the world a dozen times over. Others may have taken the chance to tour space in a commercial vehicle. More might have gone crazy and bought thirty million gumballs. But no, you will rest safe and secure in your (again, shared with only ten thousand of your closest friends) brand new missile silo. With any luck, the sucker will be nuclear. Then you, even without the Ouija board, can glow-in-the-dark.

You know, looking back on that list? I think I made the right choice. Sure some of these things would be nice – but when I’m freezing in the desert, or searching through my pack at night, or even fighting a monsoon in who knows where… what would all those Garbage Pail Kids cards really have to offer me?

[note: all images were discovered on http://search.creativecommons.org/ ]