SCAVENGER HUNT BINGO

What do we do on a gloomy, cold April day? My friends and I go on a South Shore scavenger hunt.

Planning a scavenger hunt is pretty easy. If you're a normal person, you probably start with touristy things to do. If you're a little twisted like I am, you'd start with Roadside America, the website where people post about oddities and strange places to see and visit.

Once I have a possible map area of where we can (and might) go in one day, I start researching more things for the list. In addition to the Roadside America website, Google maps is very good at marking local landmarks and interesting stops -- you just have to be willing to scrounge around a bit with the map.

Next step is plotting the course.  If something is too far out of the way, off the beaten path, or not recommended, I cross it off the list immediately. Then, I narrow the list down to about twenty-two or so possibilities. Every location is added to Master List. This includes order or visit based on location, and detailed directions on where each oddity is located.

The last step before traveling is to create a Bingo card. Using a 25x25 grid system, insert FREE to the center space. Take all of the locations and enter them randomly into the Bingo card. Any leftover spots become breakfast, lunch, or dinner spots (or just snack break). 

My friends and I randomly start the scavenger hunt too late to get to everything in a single day, but we have fun finding things and adding stickers to our Bingo card:  Jet on a pole, Land of Lincolns statue and plaque, statues of  Lone Sailor and Abigail Adams and John Adams and John Hancock, United First Parish Church, a very nearly perfect granite sphere weighing 9.5 tons, and the first Dunkin Donuts. We also find s shoe sitting by itself outside of Taco Bell.

We have many more things on the Bingo card for next time, including a log cabin replica, USS Salem (which, apparently, is tricky to get near), a memorial to Sacco and Vanzetti (convicted murderers who may or may not have been guilty), and the grave of the donut-hole inventor. 

Instead of saying, "What do you want to do today?" try doing something different. Odd. Strange. Twisted. Try playing Scavenger Hunt Bingo with other like-minded weirdos.

IT'S BARELY APRIL

I understand that it is barely April. 

I understand that we survived March without holidays nor random days off.

I understand that we sprang ahead an hour so we gained some daylight.

I understand that we had just as many weekends last month as every month.

I understand that it is still cold out and might snow at any given moment.

I understand that the temperature fluctuates sharper than a menopausal woman.

I understand that my skin is tired of cracking and itching.

I understand that humans cannot live on soups and stews alone.

I understand that people shouldn't be cooped up inside for extended time periods.

What I don't understand is how one warm day in New England resets my entire inner circuit board into thinking it is summer already.

I'm ready. You're ready.

Everyone is ready.

(Except my bathing suit body. 

My bathing suit body is most definitely not ready.)

MAKE MY DAY -- THEN STEP AWAY

March is the worst month to be an English/Language Arts public school teacher up here in Massachusetts. 

There are zero holidays, so no long weekends, there is no Spring Break (we are per diem employees, so don't even go there), and we are gearing up for state testing in two weeks. Yes, 75% of the way through the school year, the kiddos are being tested on 100% of the curriculum. This means that we need to take down and hide any and all materials related to what is taught to prevent cheating, plus assure our students that they are, indeed, prepared for two days of rigorous and unrealistic testing conditions.

This is also the time when someone on the scheduling committee decides to add in an Academic Open House evening.

I have nothing against sharing the students' work. Come in (almost) anytime! I have stuff posted around my room. I have binders full of projects and papers. I have a file cabinet brimming with students' folders and papers.

But, truly? During the longest stretch? At the most arduous time? The point where the stress level is bursting? When we are trying to mitigate any resources that might compromise the outcome of a state test that is geared more toward college students than middle schoolers? When the weather itself is iffy, at its best?

Small wonder we are all dragging ourselves through the days, or that our sick-out rate is at its highest, or that our nerves and patience levels are shot. 

If you are not a part of my student or immediate teaching team and walk into my room now, and a few idiots have done so, I'm going to take your head off and serve it to you on a paper-lined clipboard.

During the filming of Midnight Cowboy, an unplanned and unscripted line happened when a taxi cab almost hit actor Dustin Hoffman. Briefly breaking character, Hoffman banged on the cab's hood and yelled, "Hey! I'm walkin' here!" (Then cussed out the equally irate driver as the cab took off.)

This is how I feel. This is how we all feel in the Massachusetts public school system right now. Get out of our way. Stay out of our way. Let us do the work we are trained, hired, and scripted to do.

If you dare to cross into my lair right now, or at any time before I am done with the state testing in my subject, I will tear you a new body orifice and serve it back to you charred to perfection. I might be reprimanded, or, if I'm lucky, maybe I'll even be relieved of my duty. 

That would be fine. I'm ready for anything at this point. After all, it's March. It's the very worst time to do what I do. This is stroke-level stuff. 

But, go ahead. Make my day. Walk this way. Cross that line. I dare you to, because you might have forgotten: I'm walkin' here.

VEGAS MEETS THE GRAND CANYON

The final full day of the Vegas adventure involves a side trip: My daughter and I decide to visit the Grand Canyon. Bear in mind that the closest rim of the Canyon to Vegas is the West Rim, where the Skywalk is, and it is not part of the National Park system. This part of the Canyon is operated by the Hualapi Native Americans, so it's not the usual flashy tourist trap.

We sign up for the bus tour, an excellent decision if anyone is considering this, and pass through some of the most amazing scenery I have ever seen up close. Of course, we goof a bit, too, like making fun of the mini-mountain that appears to have a nipple on top, but it wouldn't be a true adventure without some shenanigans on our part. 

The first stop is at the Hoover Dam. Lake Mead is slowly disappearing, which makes the entire Hoover Dam project an exercise in irony, and it's a bit mind-boggling walking across the bridge and trying not to think about falling to one's demise over the railing. We don't have time for the full tour, but we get some great pictures of the dam and the surrounding rock structures and hills.

In order to get to the West Rim, the bus drives through the Joshua Tree National Park in Arizona. It's still winter and has recently snowed, so there isn't a lot of greenery nor blossoming going on, but it's still amazing and so very different than what we are used to in New England. 

After that, we are on the Hualapi Reservation, a place where the "People of the Tall Pines" have lived since around 600 A.D. (C.E. for you modernists). The place is both beautiful and heartbreaking. It's tough to see how many of these people live on land that is so amazing in conditions that are limited. Of course, the counter to that is the way the scenic areas surrounding Vegas have given way to gated cul-de-sacs, and that is equally bothersome. 

Once we arrive at the West Rim, the skies are blue but the air is cold. It is windy and chilly, and we seem to have brought our New England weather with us. We decide against the Skywalk as it is rather expensive for the experience, and opt instead for a glassed-in corner table view over the Canyon and Skywalk where we will eat our lunch. The meal is one of the best things we have ever eaten: tortilla/taco toppings on traditional Hualapi fried bread and a salad with fresh nuts from nearby groves. The experience is stunning and mind-bending. We are literally sitting in and above the Grand Canyon!

After that, we explore both Eagle Point and Guano Point (yes, guano). By the time we get to the second location, Guano Point, the weather has started to deteriorate. The winds have picked up, the sky has clouded, and we watch as a snow squall moves all the way through the Canyon, following the Little Colorado River as it barrels toward us, wee little people standing precariously 4,000+ feet in the air on ledges less than ten feet wide that have zero barriers to oblivion. Some people are climbing the huge rock mountains for better views. I'm praying that a wind gust doesn't send us flying to our demise.

Finally, we make our way back to the gift shop and then to the bus. We are so cold at this point because the temperature is now in the 30s, at best. We pass across a time zone (Arizona doesn't change its clocks), and make it back to Vegas in time for dinner. We wish we had one more day to hit a couple more Vegas sites and museums, but there is no way in the world that we regret taking that bus tour and seeing what we experienced. We didn't get a chance to see any Hualapi demonstrations (it was too cold and snowy for even the crafters to come out), but it was wonderful to walk with the Native people in their own lands and see what they have been seeing for centuries. 

Yes, I'd like to see the South Rim someday, and the North Rim if it ever reopens after the fires. The true cultural experience, though, is through the eyes of the people who live amongst the Canyon itself, who share their traditions and their food and their knowledge and their talents. It's not a tourist experience, it's a spiritual one, and well worth the travel.

Las Vegas, Part 3: Can You Hear Me Now?

On our second day in Vegas, one of our entourage loses her phone at the casino. This in and of itself is a potential catastrophe, but it is actually a nuclear-level emergency. Our venue tickets are on that phone. Not just one venue -- but three: the wax museum, the gondola ride, and The Sphere.

There are several positives here. Number one, we are still in the same casino where the phone went missing. Two, we discover that we have lost the device within twenty minutes of its disappearance. Three, the phone's owner only plays Wizard of Oz slot machines, and she had been sitting at two in this particular casino.

We check out the first and most recent slot machine, but the phone is not there. As we work our way back toward the casino entrance and, perhaps, some help, we try and retrace our steps to the first slot machine, ringing the lost phone as we go. Suddenly, the phone of the woman's sister starts to ring. The conversation goes something like this:

Did you just call me? I just got a call from K's phone, but it wasn't K!

Who called you? Did you get the number? Oh, wait. It was K's phone. Did they say where they were?

Aren't you in Las Vegas? Why is someone calling from her phone?

Hang up. We're calling the phone again. Hello? Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Is anyone there?

I'm tempted to yell out, "Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret!" 

It takes us about forty-five seconds to realize that no one can figure out who is calling to nor from the missing phone because the actual phone's owner has hearing aids in her ears. Relatives are calling her phone, and she can hear people talking but no one can hear her nor can they hear each other because, surprise, she has virtual ears on the conversations but no microphone. The microphone is in the hands of the mystery woman holding the actual phone.

There is some fumbling and then the mad pulling of hearing aids from ears. Finally, our call goes through to the person holding the phone, and communication can be had. It turns out that the cellphone has been picked up by a partially inebriated woman and her dour chum, and they are sitting at the first slot machine hoping that the phone's owner might return so they can get on with their lives.

We are all relieved that the phone is back in our hands, mostly because we don't want K without communication, but also because we really, really want to go to the other venues we have scheduled. For the rest of the afternoon, we tease our companion: Do you have your phone? Should we call you?

It gives new and multiple meanings to the phone ad, "Can you hear me now?" Thank Elvis, the answer is YES.

VEGAS ADVENTURE, Part 2

Day Two in Las Vegas, and we should be exhausted after all of the walking and traveling we did yesterday, but, of course, we are not. Up early, we place an order at the 24-hour Starbucks, which just happens to be at the bottom of our hotel's elevator, and bring coffee and breakfast back to our room. 

I promptly drop my (outrageously expensive Las Vegas) iced coffee between the bed and the night table. By the grace of Elvis's ghost, my coffee lands upright against the bed frame base, and I merely splash a strange tannish stain along the side of my sheets. Coffee is saved! It's going to be a good day.

Today's itinerary has three activities: wax museum, gondola ride, and The Sphere. Since we are already up and moving, we decide to squish one more excursion into the mix: The Shark Reef and Aquarium at Mandalay Bay. One internet search, four online tickets, and an Uber ride later, we are at the casino, working our way through to the aquarium so we can arrive the moment the doors open. This plan is key since multiple school groups are queued up to enter as we are exiting after an hour or so touring through the place. We spend the most time watching the sharks swim over, under, and all around us as we walk through.

Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum is cool. (It's definitely not London cool, but I've only seen pictures of that one, and this museum is in the waxy flesh.) At first I am intimidated by the fact that the realistic figures are just out there, available to walk up to without so much as anyone to stop us. It takes me a moment to understand that we can wrap our arms around the statues if we so want. We pose and get cheeky with famous "people" and are generally trying to behave ourselves, until ... 

Until we encounter Miley Cyrus on the wrecking ball. 

In front of Miley is a life-sized wrecking ball with a rubber mat surrounding it. Yes, folks, people can pose on the wrecking ball. So, of course, that is exactly what we do. One middling lady and three seniors, all taking turns having our Wrecking Ball Moment. We heft each other as needed because these old hips don't lie like they used to, but no one needs an ambulance, and no bones are broken during our photoshoot. 

We goof around with Elvis, grab The Rock, wave to Snoop Dog, pose with Evel, and take silly pictures with celebrities we will never meet. We comment on how unexpected the heights of some of them are, from ridiculously Tupac-small in stature to RuPaul-willowy. Wayne Newton next to Tom Jones is like looking at the Jolly Green Giant with a Hobbit. On our way back to the hotel, we take a quick gondola ride and are serenaded by the only true Italian gondolier of the bunch. 

We have tickets to the early show at The Sphere, a giant globe that seats 20,000 people and provides what they call a 5-D experience. The climb to our seats requires mountaineering equipment and mountain-goat nerves of steel. The pitch of the place is dizzying. After the initial panic between my daughter and me that perhaps we have made the biggest mistake of our lives coming here due to our shared anxiety, we hang on to each other for dear life through the hour-plus Wizard of Oz experience. It's a fun show, but it is not for those with visual vertigo. We are glad that we went, but it's probably a one-and-done. I recommend it for an experience, but I could never get a job inside the theater itself.

The evening ends early, as two of our companions have one more day of gambling and Vegas shenanigans planned, while my daughter and I prep for our Grand Canyon Experience. It's cold in Vegas -- we've brought the New England weather with us, and it may well follow us to Arizona, but we have long sleeves, sweaters, sweatshirts, and vests. We are going to the Canyon, and even Mother Nature cannot stop us.

Can she?

VIVA LAS VEGAS, DAY #1

LAS VEGAS -- Day #1 

Heading to Las Vegas with my daughter and two other women, I have to research four things ahead of time. The most important is our side trip to the West Rim of the Grand Canyon (what's worth the money and what isn't). The second is the weather (we bring New England temperatures and snow with us). The third is where not to be caught walking (north of Old Vegas around the Neon Boneyard, which is also the last monorail stop). The fourth is how to gamble at the slot machines.

Yes, I am heading to Las Vegas and have never gambled beyond friendly card games of Poker, Whist, and 45's (a card game brought to the Merrimack Valley by Irish immigrants). I'm still not sure how the whole thing works, but I do win $18 for the few minutes that I gave it a try.

The Vegas airport is wildly entertaining. We could easily spend a day or two just in this place. It has shops and slot machines and restaurants and a whole lot to see and do. We Uber over to the hotel, and the first sight pointed out to us is the scene of Tupac Shakur's murder. Since it happened in a car-to-car shooting, there is a memorial utility pole at the corner of Flamingo Road and Koval Lane. It actually sets the bar pretty high for us.

We drop our luggage and decide to go off exploring. This involves hitting several casinos. My daughter and I are more into seeing sights, like places where The Hangover was filmed and just taking in the grandeur or Caesar's Palace, Paris Las Vegas, The Venetian, and the Bellagio's fountains, which are not running because of the winds. (Yes, we bring with us cold temperatures, high winds, and snow.) We even sneak into Hell's Kitchen. Our co-travelers mainly play the slots and win a little money. It's the Lunar New Year, and the hotels are doing it right -- there's a lot to see, but the places are mob scenes of tourists like us.

We notice that the ashtrays, which are everywhere because smoking is not only encouraged but required, are plastic at our hotel casino but glass everywhere else. We also notice that we need water ... badly. The relative humidity around here is about fifteen percent, a far cry from what we are used to, plus all of the smoke is enough to choke a freaking camel. Water, apparently, is a hot commodity at around $8 a bottle. We spend it. It's worth it.

We check in to the hotel by standing in a long line. Afterwards, we locate the automated check-in, but, by now, my daughter and I have been put through the VIP lane, which is a great start. Our friends' window on the ninth floor faces The Sphere, and our window on the twelfth floor faces the Hard Rock Hotel construction site. Both views are actually fascinating.

After dinner, we decide to visit the Neon Boneyard. We could take the monorail and walk to it, but I remember what I found out about that last stop, the one we would be using, so we Uber over. The Uber driver apparently believes he is Mario Andretti and flies across multiple lanes of traffic while doing 84 in a 55. Yes, I looked over his shoulder to see the speedometer. As we near the Neon Boneyard, the Uber driver does caution us against walking around the neighborhood. Actually, he says to make sure we get an Uber right from the exact spot he left us and not to wander. Solid advice since we have no idea where we are, anyway.

We pass Old Vegas, all lit up, and finally feel like we have our bearings back when we see The Sphere, which is tomorrow evenings' adventure. It will be hard to beat Tupac's utility pole, but we are darn well going to give it a try while we're here.