On the Strip with camers and bikes
In a city built to take your money during CES, the electronics industry’s Super Bowl, I wondered further why we rode out of the Aria valet lot into a Zen-like calm and happiness. A dozen people that had not met or ridden with each other before arrived on the Strip, started taking photos, and became fast friends.
Maybe it’s what Edwin Land said about the first Polaroid camera, the SX-70
… it turns out that buried within all of us–God knows beneath how many pregenital and Freudian and Calvinistic strata–there is latent interest in each other; there is tenderness, curiosity, excitement, affection, companionability and humor; it turns out that in this cold world where man grows distant from man, and even lovers can reach each other only briefly, that we have a yen for and a primordial competence for a quiet good-humored delight in each other: we have a prehistoric tribal competence for a non-physical, non-emotional, non-sexual satisfaction in being partners in the lonely exploration of a once empty planet.
Assembling for the ride in the Aria
Vegas can be a lonely place for me, unless I’m fortunate enough to have like-minded friends with cameras and bikes. Instead of shaking our Polaroid pictures until they developed, we instantly uploaded, and shared them on social networks. Same as it ever was, really, and the magic is just simply that bikes are fun.
Cervezas in the Winter Sun