Winter break was a time of exotic destinations for some travelers. My roommate went to sunny Mexico. My boyfriend and his family went to tropical Hawaii. I took off for (drumroll, please) Reno, Nev. The closest I got to a warm shore was when I heard my cell phone chime its beach tune.
The billboard displayed on Reno’s “strip” reads, “The Biggest Little City in the World.” Well, it really should read, “The Biggest Little Bore in the World.” My father, who enjoys a game or two of keno, has been taking nongambling Mom and I to Reno every few years. While there, we filled our time strolling the dirty sidewalks and have since memorized every pawn shop selling the old watches of unlucky gamblers among Reno’s desert landscape.
Going to Reno in December 2003 left out a large chunk of activity options for me because I turn 21 in May. I don’t long to bet my hard-earned money, but walking in casinos with Dad is always inevitable. However, I chose to avoid the casinos this time because I always seem to get kicked out by some grumpy old security officer. I really wasn’t in the mood for being accused of attempting to illegally throw away my money. You know, being interrogated about something I have no desire to do really makes me feel left out! I didn’t want to gamble anyway. So I decided to find fun away from the gaming rooms.
One delight in Reno that can be accessed easily by bus is the Meadowood Mall. Mom and I went during our first day, but since it was Dec. 21 and our wallets were already drained from Christmas shopping, window shopping was our only option. We walked and looked, and when it was time for a hot drink to help us brave the cold outside, we realized the mall had no espresso bar. I stood in line for 30 minutes at Cinnabon to get a hot tea, and when I finally ordered, the Cinnabon boy seemed very appalled that I wanted milk in my tea. Not so delightful.
On the second day, Mom, Dad and I decided to bus it to Carson City, which we heard was a “cute Western town.” When we stepped off the bus, we couldn’t believe our eyes. I had imagined streets of saddle shops, museums and shops selling cowboy paraphernalia, but instead, the town consisted of several blocks of stores and one casino. The gray sky seemed to be closing in on us. I longed for my hotel room. Nevertheless, we went exploring.
“Scary Western people” would have been a more accurate description of Carson City. In one smoky tavern, we spotted a woman in a puffy-sleeved dress from the 1800s, and another in a giant fur ensemble. The city’s personnel looked like the cast of “Blazing Saddles.” At first glance, Reno makes Las Vegas look like the pinnacle of glamour, but Carson City did the same justice for Reno. I felt very civilized back in Reno, dining at a restaurant in the bustling Eldorado hotel.
My trip ended on a pathetically happy note. Mom and I discovered there was a Walgreens within walking distance from our hotel, so we spent our last morning in Reno there. It was wonderful. There were rows of perfume and soap, aisles of makeup and hair products, piles of magazines and shelves of glittering accessories. We went on a mini shopping spree with a portion of Dad’s keno winnings, and pathetic or not, it really was the highlight of my trip. It’s amazing how extraordinary everyday things can look in bleak settings. After going in gift shops full of plastic frogs and cigarette lighters, Walgreens looked like Saks Fifth Avenue.
Reno may be a drag, but at least I found joy at the end. One of my Walgreens purchases was a body mist that smells like the tropics. When I took the first whiff, I dreamed of traveling to a sunny destination with plenty of beaches. Oh well, maybe next year.