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Slots

Mom has always wanted to take pictures of me standing in something called a slot canyon. The problem with most slot canyons is that they are usually illegal for dogs to visit because they’re in fancy National Parks or other places where dogs aren’t welcome. Luckily, you can do pretty much anything you want in Las Vegas, so of course the home of the gas station slot machine was the place to find dog-friendly slot canyons.


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When we came out of the slot, I thought we would be on a different adventure, like a dramatic scramble up big boulders like yesterday, or maybe a climb up one of those deceitful mountains. But the slot opened back up into another wash and we kept walking up river like before. Finally, we saw a Karen that pointed us up a little path out of the wash. We followed her, and found ourselves standing in the middle of the slippery, muddy Colin Firth desert with nothing really to see and no obvious path to follow. We wandered around through the desert for a little less than half a mile until the red line on the mapp said that we were supposed to climb back down into another river wash. Mom looked at the way down, and then looked ahead in the direction that the mapp line pointed. “I don’t get it,” she said. “The map says we’re supposed to climb something, but I don’t see anything nearby that looks worth climbing. We only have like half a mile to go, so it’s not like we can climb one of those big mountains or something.” “So what do we do?” “I think we’ve already found our treasure. The rest of this hike has been pretty lame. Let’s go back down the slot,” Mom said.


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We drove out of the empty desert and toward the tall buildings. As we got out of nature and into people things, I was less excited. “Eew, it’s all porn shops, pawn shops, and fast food restaurants,” Mom said. “Look, a McDonalds!” I said. “Can I have some McRotguts?” “Dude, there are like 3 cop cars and an ambulance in the parking lot. I am NOT stopping there!”


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supermarket Starbucks, where she felt safe.

Oscar the Slot Beast

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