Sometime during the early morning hours, the train crossed into northern Nevada. I woke with a start, sitting up, it took a moment for my eyes to focus and remember where I was. Replaying last night’s events, I was sure Casey went out of his way to insulate me from whatever he was up to; he easily could have included me in his shenanigans. My speculation, he was running drugs; it would explain his temperament change from the previous day and his compulsion to check his rearview mirror.
Sitting back against the wall, I pulled my sleeping bag around me and closed my eyes, contemplating my way to the next stop. Compared to Ultra-Conservative Utah, Nevada is a roaring Saturday Night to its neighbor’s Sunday Morning. Bringing it rough and tumble past into the twenty-first century, the state permits state wide gambling and legalized brothels in any county with a population less than four-hundred thousand. The rest of the state needs a competitive advantage on Las Vegas.
Elko NV: I stopped in town primarily to look up some old friends that moved from Montana. Many Montanans relocate to Elko, at least temporarily, to earn money in the mines. I stumbled into the Stray Dog Pub and ordered up a tall blonde. Being in Nevada, I should clarify that by I mean the beer, not a brothel worker, though the thought of enjoying that type of blonde seemed a pleasant distraction from the rigors of this campaign.
Surprisingly, 9-11 wasn’t a huge topic of conversation, the only mentions were that it has been seven years and where were you when you found out. I was living in Belgrade, Montana, working in a small brewery when I learned of the attacks. I had stepped into work and everyone was surrounding the TVs. When the second plane crashed into the World Trade Center, I turned to a coworker and said, “Bush has his excuse to finish Family Business.”
Obviously, our two wars were the topic of conversation. One gentleman humored me, asking what my administration would do. His patronizing tone wasn’t lost upon me, but I focused on his question and laid out the Dirty Bum Platform’s Plank on Iraq and Afghanistan.
I stumped in numerous bars in town. When someone noted that even McCain and Obama ceased campaigning for the day, I smiled. “Do you believe it is heartfelt or a political maneuver?”
“It’s a sign of respect.”
“Sitting in a bar is a sign of respect?” I countered.
Disappointed in not locating my friends, I walked westward into waves of heat rising off the high desert floor. A few miles west of Elko, I hopped upon a flatcar and rode the freight towards Winnemucca.
Nine hours later, I jumped from the freight into the town of Fernley. It wasn’t long before I found Mackay’s Bar. When I enter a town, I quiz the locals about the area and then pass it on to you, dear reader. Tonight, I learned that Fernley is “an Amazon.com shipping source.”
Like my adopted hometown, the area is in the throes of change. Since 2006, Fernley is the fastest growing city in Nevada, fueled primarily from investments from Seattle.
In the course of conversation, the person will tire of talking about their hometown and ask what brings you here. With the door wide open, I step into stumping and win at least the person’s ear if not their vote. If I do my job well, the person will spread the word and more times than not, a small crowd will form. Tonight, like most nights, I did my job well. At this stage of the campaign, the stumping muscle is well exercised and my part goes almost without effort, so unlike the early days in North Dakota and Minnesota.
As the night wound down, I signed a couple Robert ‘100s’, bid everyone farewell, and found myself a cheap motel room. Despite my fatigue, I showered before composing my report and sending it to Alberton.
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