After a (Melika-treated) dinner at Lucky’s, we followed family tradition by departing late (very late) for a mini-vacation in the desert Southwest. Our first stop was Las Vegas with an outside temperature of 107° Fahrenheit; 42° Celsius.

Because it was a dry heat, it didn’t feel as bad as it sounds. [What am I saying? The inside of an oven is dry. It felt miserably hot. “Air” seared lungs and tires melted firmly affixing cars to the roadway.] Ah… it was worse than it sounds.

Living in New York, the undeniable center of the universe, Mitra hadn’t known what to expect of Las Vegas. She was, however, indignant when I observed that the lights were brighter than Broadway. But, true to form, she had done some research.

“I read that they do a lot of dancing here, Dad. Do you think I can find a place to Tango?”

“Dancing? Yes. Tango? Well - I don’t think you’ll find the standard Las Vegas dance to your liking. I certainly hope you won’t.”

A bit of money – mostly Darius’ money – was lost at gaming tables. I was quick to provide advice.

“Darius. Why do you do gamble like that?”

“My economic area of concentration is game theory, Dad. I’m doing research.”

“The theory in Las Vegas is quite simple. The house always wins.”

“But my odds are best in blackjack.”

“The house always wins, Dar”

“They didn’t win the first time I played.”

“And you didn’t stop while you were ahead. You’ll win the day I see Elvis.”

“Dad,” Darius pointed.

We had a great meal in the Venetian Hotel and watched the water fountain show across the street. We took the Roller Coaster ride on top of New York, New York. We admired the neon lights and managed, for the most part, to dodge persistent street side marketing campaigns for the Vegas equivalent of the red light district.

The next stop was Sedona near the famous Red Rocks of Arizona and conveniently placed for a trip to the Grand Canyon. Arriving in the city, which was much larger than expected, I followed standard procedure by dispatching Darius to a local shop to get detailed directions.

“They say, Dad, that we should simply stay on this street until we get to the giant gas station and then turn right.”

A bit further along there was a giant gas station – but the only possible turn was to the left. “Well, Darius?” I asked, somewhat annoyed.

“That’s a big gas station, Dad. We’re looking for a giant gas station.”

We passed massive, huge, large, king-size, mammoth, enormous and vast petrol establishments before arriving at “giant gas”.

The next day we had a Grand drive to the Canyon.

“If you could be an animal, which one would you choose?” Mitra asked as we were on the way.

“Vin Diesel asked me that at a party,” Melika replied.

There was silence in the car as we considered this information. [Nazy: This is great, Melika knows someone in the famous German Engine Family; I wonder if he’s involved in the railroad subsidiary? Dan: What kind of a name is Vin Diesel? Who is this guy? Mitra: Does he know how to Tango? Darius: Great action movies, Mel.] The diversity of opinions led to (unusual) silence.

The Canyon was truly Grand. We enjoyed the vistas and marveled at the giant hole created by simple erosion applied over a million-year timeframe. I learned, much to my dismay that erosion can be caused by wind as well as water. Powerful winds can, in fact, detach a hat from the most stubborn of heads. So, the protector of my sensitive, easily sunburned skull, was blown into the canyon. It was a catastrophe.

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