I Live in a Van Down by the Walmart!

I now know what a hot pocket feels like.

Every morning I wake up feeling like I was just microwaved. That's one of the problems with living in a van...in the desert...during the summer.

I can't currently open my windows because the Walmart I am staying at (more on that in future posts) is about twenty feet from McCarran International Airport, and it turns out planes are relatively loud. There's a reason that those relaxing sounds CDs meant to make you fall asleep tend to include "running water" and "gentle breezes" more than "jet engines" and "landing gear."

I would go to a different Walmart, but this one is centrally located and in a relatively good neighborhood, a tough combination to find in Vegas. Plus, it comes with security, in the form of a small car with a flashing orange siren driven by various residents of the nearby retirement community. (I've had a couple conversations with Doug, an affable security guard who informs me most of his coworkers actually do "remember the Alamo.") These guards circle the parking lot over and over again for hours on end, spraying the surrounding area with a charming neon glow that I now describe as "homey."

Still, it definitely beats the Pilot Travel Center I parked at for my first week on the road. It was busy 24 hours a day and had a sign lighting structure eerily reminiscent of Times Square. It also offered showers for a low low price of ten dollars which, judging by the look of the showers, did not cover the cleaning expenses. I chose instead to opt for a coin-operated water machine and a good old-fashioned bucket.

There are some good things about living in the van, which include (but are not limited to):

1. During the day, I am forced to leave my doors open to take advantage of the breeze (and by this I mean 115 degree gusts of hot air), and it results in meeting a lot of interesting individuals. I find these interactions generally involve some sort of financial transaction. Sometimes the person I talk to feels inspired by my search for meaning (and by this I mean "sorry for me") and generously slips me some money for gas. Other times, I find myself giving others money, mainly because they ask and I'm not particularly adept at saying no. Actually, one guy saw me working on my laptop in the van and, despite my insistence that I am one step removed from "computer illiterate," I am currently awaiting a call from his mother so that I can provide her with computer support.

2. Being microwaved is good for my tan. I occasionally get sunburned (to the point of blisters once), but I'm pretty sure a "healthy glow" is in my near future. To borrow a line from my favorite Ithaca business establishment, that's "Tanfastic!"

3. The van keeps giving me inspirations for new games. My current favorite is a drinking game called "How many times can you hit your head?" Here's how to play:

Step One: Grow to be 6 feet 4 inches tall.

Step Two: Live in a van.

Step Three: Discover new and inventive ways to hit your head.

Every time you hit your head, drink. If you hit your head on the same part of the van twice in one day, drink double. If you hit your head hard enough to cause "blunt force trauma," drink until the pain goes away.