"Hot Summer Nights" week-long car show. One year the Reno Gun Show's meeting was the same weekend as the end of that car show thing. I would like to find whoever engineered THAT debacle sequence. The one good bit of news......we had made reservations months ahead, Marie wanted to go so we nailed a room down early-on.
Arrive Thursday late afternoon, crowded as &^%$, but that's the Show. We learn that Hot Summer Nights is wrapping up its run on Sunday, and that same Little Voice that kept me alive during my lawdog days was gently whispering......"GTFO of here, mui pronto." That might have been a tough sell to SWMBO, so I stayed low and kept dark. Thursday evening was genuinely fun, had a good meal and unexpectedly ran into one of my cousins from the Bay Area who was doing some dealing at the Show. We hung out for a while, he went on to meet some fellow levergun buccaneers, and Marie and I call it a night semi-early.
Cousin R was all about being in line to get in the door as early as possible for the Friday opener. Marie and I felt otherwise, and lazied around sleeping late. We went in about noon, after a decadent brunch of about 8K calories. That might be a mild over-description. We strolled around in the crowded halls, Marie getting her first gen yoo wine Jackalope Head Mount from the predators that hawk such wares. Marie looked at knives, I looked at over-priced S&W and Colt wheelguns, and after a couple hours I snagged the object of the exercise (a sleeve of Rem #6-1/2 primers) and called it a day.
After a nice nap, we got up about 5:30 and went in search of food. Mission accomplished, and as the sun was setting Marie saw the driving range and wanted to hit a bucket of balls. We both had a good time at that, 4 buckets all told. We hike back up to the hotel proper, and another danger sign presented itself--though not immediately recognized as such. Lots and lots of early-to-mid-20s double-breasted life-wreckers clad in clubbing outfits were roaming the casino and hotel. Quite scenic, and half a lifetime earlier I might have called this a target-rich environment, but with Marie in tow that was a thought best left on the down-low.
We get into the elevator, and Marie asks--"Is there a dance venue in here somewhere?"
The Little Voice--"Play dumb."
Me--"I don't know, babe. There might be a ballroom."
Marie--"Those girls are here to dance. And a lot more!" A good time for me to remain silent. Spanish ladies can go from standing start to TODO INSURRECTA Y INQUISICION in under four seconds.
Back inside our room, we start getting ready for bed when the most godawful sub-woofer onslaught I ever heard started up at 9 P.M. sharp. Techno music. The windows vibrated--as did the floor, the walls, and the bed. It continued for 30 minutes, nonstop. It stopped for 10-15 minutes, then up it went again. All night--until 3 A.M. The "stops" gave you just enough time to drop off to sleep, then THUMP THUMP BUMP BUMP all over again for a half hour. This wasn't Reno--it was Guantanamo.
The sub-woofers surrendered at 3 A.M. Ah, peace at last.......for about 10 minutes. The aforementioned life-wreckers were still on the hunt, apparently. Now they infested the hotel hallways, squealing and laughing and knocking on doors--to include our own.
Marie--"Invite her in, so I can......"
Me--"That would cause talk. They will wear out, and crash shortly. You want another night of this $%#@?" I got a look that would shrivel asbestos. "Got it. Let's crash and get out of here after we get up later."
About 9:30 A.M. we got into line to check out a day earlier than planned. By this time, the front desk staff had tired of arguing with older gun show attendees (like us) who wanted to leave, and were issuing refunds for the asking. Refund secured, an even larger line waited to have their cars brought out by the valets. 45 minutes later--at noon--we started the truck and headed south for home.
The fun wasn't over yet. We gassed up and got under way. By the time we made Bridgeport, summer thunderstorm clouds were boiling over the peaks. Lightning started squirting all around, then came gully-washer rain--a bit of hail--dry spots, then as we drove down Sherwin Grade toward Bishop the lightning down-strikes were hitting every 5-10 seconds. All power was out by the time we got to Bishop, and remained out for the entire length of Owens Valley. The first illuminated sign we saw was south of Olancha--20 miles from home in Ridgecrest.
Neither of us has returned to the Big Reno Show since then (Aug. 2013).