Damn, that is a huge dam ...

We met destiny and grabbed it by the throat on Wednesday with a trip to Avis in Santa Barbara to hire a car. Cousin Slugg took the keys and proceeded to walk to the right side of the car to start 'er up.

Indeed, it had been a long time between drinks for the self-proclaimed Slugger (he last drove a car in January before his excursion to England) and soon he realised the error of his ways walking to the left side of the car or, in this case, the right side.

About an hour or so north of Los Angeles, Santa Barbara is a wonderful coastal city full of beautiful women. The way it should be, except my very casual attire of thongs, baggy shorts, trucker hat and fake designer sunglasses were not conducive to meeting the fairer sex. We cruised the town in our new wheels before the thought of venturing to Las Vegas entered our minds. However, the busy holiday traffic put an end to that and instead we did a U-turn and took the beautiful coast road north to Santa Maria, stopping for many picture opportunities along the way. Thanks to G.I. Vic for the many Southern California suggestions.

Thanksgiving Thursday and there was no turkey in sight for JB and Cousin Slugg as we went to Vegas. Generally the roads were quiet and we saw unusual sights in California like oil fields and wind generators operating at full capacity. No rest for the wicked. We hit Vegas in the late afternoon and proceeded to find our hotel in the unfortunate location a mile off the strip. From there, Slugger won but I lost playing Black Jack at Caesars Palace (yet we managed to get a free beer) and then walked up-and-down the strip walking into many casinos and didn't get back to our hotel until almost 3am.

The prospect of losing more money that I didn't have meant that we headed to the engineering wonder that is Hoover Dam on Friday before heading back to Vegas for - wait for it - more shopping at the famed outlet malls. Four hours later, I had maxed out my credit card and seemingly bought stuff that I couldn't (a) afford or (b) fit into my ever-expanding suitcase. Rivjuando would tell you that when I left Portland I needed to sweet talk the airline staff to carry more than I was technically allowed. Nevertheless, that didn't stop me trying as I bought more fragrances, another pair of shoes, three sweaters and countless t-shirts. Biting off more than I could chew, I knew - in more ways than one - that it was going to be a challenge to get home.