Butterfly in Las Vegas

There are rules in Las Vegas:

  1. Assume that every situation is governed by rules, especially when there appear to be none.
  2. You are required to establish your own rules.
  3. You must decide when and how to abide by your rules.
  4. If someone else demands that you abide by their rules, you are required to determine whether they conflict with yours and to choose accordingly.

Whenever I visit Las Vegas, I spend a good deal of time flitting around the wider sidewalks on the northern (and older) end of the Strip. Later in the afternoon, the Sun is lower but the heat is still unnerving. There are fewer people about, but it’s just as dusty. Passersby have occasionally noticed me, and generally seem to dislike me. This is a good time and place to practice indifference.

The last time I went, though, I met someone I am still thinking about. He had stepped abruptly out of the black glass doors of a rundown casino, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t quick enough to avoid him, and we bumped heads. There’s a considerable difference in size between our two heads so I was badly knocked, and fell to the ground.

I appear to be quite a small butterfly so I was surprised that he noticed and carefully lifted me up into the palm of his hand. Maybe he thought he had killed me. He ran his finger along the edge of my wings. He gently lifted the tips of my antennas.

Recovering, I began to squirm so he pulled his finger away and watched. At least, I think he watched because I couldn’t see his eyes. He was wearing shiny, black sunglasses, and a motorcycle helmet, too.

Under that vague gaze, I struggled to my feet and tried out my wings. They seemed fine so I left his palm and fluttered just a little away to see him better. He did turn his head to follow my movements, and I could see now he was a motorcycle policeman. But suddenly, as if he was remembering something, he glanced at his watch and hurried off.

I believe he is, or he has, a piece of the puzzle. I must find him again.


About penina

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