Mile 2699, Las Vegas.
All this technology since Saturday prompted a yearning for recreation. Again, with machines not people. When I finally stumbled into town at about 9:30 p.m., I made a bee-line to a strip mall where a simple sign announced the Pinball Hall of Fame. It¹s free, so I didn’t have to confront a ticket-taking human. They also had a machine to break a$20 bill. Wall-to-wall pinball machines and some fabulous vintage video arcade games, including Asteroids. I saw in the distance, a silver-haired man in his workshop tinkering away with guts of the machines. He must be a genius because the machines played “like butter.”
The robot receptionist at Westin Element hotel was not quite as smooth. I could not for the life of me find the credit card slot until it was identified on an adjacent wall. Then it either didn’t display my room number or flashed it so quickly I missed it. When I tried to log back in, the machine demanded my room number. Eventually all was sorted out and the room was fabulous.
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