The Streak - 89

We step into the inhospitable night. Beyond the driveway, beyond the mood-lit shrubs, the rows and rows of palms, there appears to be a street. I want to walk down the middle of it out of town.

Kyle signals for the first in a long, long line of cabs.

"Where we going?" I ask.

"Don't ask me. You wanted to leave."

"I wanted to go outside and go back in."

Kyle sighs and tells the cabbie to hit the Strip. I lean my head back. In the corner of my eye the marquee lights are flashing by.

"The All-Star Game is going on," I say.