The streets were dark and the desert cactuses loomed like distorted characters all around our car that was soon to fail us. Dazed in a hung over stupor from the three debaucherous nights that had superseded this moment our awareness of the world outside the small, fast moving vehicle began to fade. Slowly, as though the car had entered the same Vegas haze as its passengers, smoke began to filter through the hood until the windows were swirling with the deadly smell of gas and an overheated car.
Half in hysterical tears and half in hysterical laughter, hours passed on the darkened street, hidden from any civilization that may have existed around us. The AAA toe truck bumbled its way up the road, bouncing and screeching over the pot holes on the desert track. Strapped wearily above the streets on the bed of a toe truck, five giggling, wide eyed girls crammed once again into the desert death trap. Before heading off for an unexpected evening in hotel beds, our apparently blazed truck driver gives us a glazed, blood-shot look and says, "Now be careful girl the brakes aren't too good."
