03/31
          Somewhere on Highway 93, Nevada; ominous shadows in the dark. Monstrous, terrifying earthen muscles that rise hulking into the night sky to be silhouetted by the moon and stars through wispy strands of cloud.
          107 miles to Las Vegas. A round of shots. Coffee in a can. CCR on the stereo.
          The approach is a long crawl through more desert abyss, moon hiding, sky clear. The faint glow I first take to be a distant dawn sun reaching over the mountain horizon is the city itself, a shining box of fool's gold, visual pollution seeping into the atmosphere.
          We're caught in their tractor beam. No choice now but to venture through the mouth, down into the beast's belly.