If you watch Star Trek, space is known as the final frontier. But in truth, the final frontier is indeed Nevada, complete with aliens and all. Inside the borders of this oddly shaped state, it seems rules just don’t apply. There is that one rule, I suppose: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…minus the odd STD I suppose. I’m not writing to you about Vegas, though—been there and done that. Besides, then I’d be violating the aforementioned rule.
I’m writing about the rest of this kick-ass desert state: Nevada is, still to this day, renegade country. The laws here are a bit more lenient than the rest of the lower 47 states. You could die here of your own stupidity or at the hand of an outlaw and end up dinner for the buzzards that circle above the sand. I always thought Nevada was a craphole, believing all it had was Sin City and its redheaded stepchild, Reno; I was wrong.
Let’s face it. No other state could get away with containing Area 51. And aliens probably chose to land in Nevada in the first place because they thought they could blend in with the rest of the kooks. Anyway, my trip to the legendary Laughlin River Run this year included many detours and days exploring this wild state. What started as a 600-mile roundtrip journey with Toph from Long Beach, California, turned into a 3,500-mile journey, through four different states. Utah is pret
If you watch Star Trek, space is known as the final frontier. But in truth, the final frontier is indeed Nevada, complete with aliens and all. Inside the borders of this oddly shaped state, it seems rules just don’t apply. There is that one rule, I suppose: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…minus the odd STD I suppose. I’m not writing to you about Vegas, though—been there and done that. Besides, then I’d be violating the aforementioned rule.
I’m writing about the rest of this kick-ass desert state: Nevada is, still to this day, renegade country. The laws here are a bit more lenient than the rest of the lower 47 states. You could die here of your own stupidity or at the hand of an outlaw and end up dinner for the buzzards that circle above the sand. I always thought Nevada was a craphole, believing all it had was Sin City and its redheaded stepchild, Reno; I was wrong.
Let’s face it. No other state could get away with containing Area 51. And aliens probably chose to land in Nevada in the first place because they thought they could blend in with the rest of the kooks. Anyway, my trip to the legendary Laughlin River Run this year included many detours and days exploring this wild state. What started as a 600-mile roundtrip journey with Toph from Long Beach, California, turned into a 3,500-mile journey, through four different states. Utah is pretty rad, too, minus the crazy religious people that force their version of God down your throat. I left California with only one plan: to make it to the Laughlin River Run. After that, it was anything goes. And it did.
The Silver State still holds many charms of the Old West, and if you pay attention, you can still see America how it was more than a century ago. Back in the day, dirty miners spent every daylight hour searching for gold. At night, the lonely souls required the comfort of a dirty woman. Local bordellos and cathouses still offer up sex as a commodity today. Prostitution—the world’s oldest and dearest profession—is still legal in some Nevada counties. Surprisingly, for any of you that have been to a Vegas casino bar, prostitution is illegal in Vegas’ Clark County.