The Stale Air in Reno

I am writing from Reno, Nevada in the United States. The static electricity is killing me. I enter a casino, zap! I exit the casino, zap! I grab the hand rail in the rest room, zap! It’s like they don’t want me here.

On the way up here we stopped by Donner Summit and I had my first taste of snow. Actually, it was too dirty to taste so I just discreetly placed a hand on its tender regions and came to the conclusion: SNOW is like the crushed ice you pour milk over in a halo-halo. Ah well. Maybe one day I’ll see snowflakes.

Well, Reno was just a fake city built in a clump of nowhere land. And on top of this land, they created humongous, gaudy buildings with bright lights. They carpeted these buildings, stuck slot machines and dealers’ tables in them and then let in the smokers. End result: stale cigarette smoke and the endless ching-ching-ching from the insane slot machines. Video game sounds. Coins entering slots. Chatter chatter chatter. And me in the middle of it all wondering why people are stupid enough to waste their money on gambling.

Nakaka-hatsing. Masakit sa mata ang usok ng sigarilyo.

Didn’t gamble at all. Not even a single quarter in a single machine. Sus! inipon ko na lang at bumili ako ng Dairy Queen blizzard na strawberry-banna flavor, at hinati ko sa pinsan ko. Eh di masaya pa kami.

So I didn’t really enjoy Reno. Don’t go there unless you want to gamble. Or maybe go to a girly bar. I just wouldn’t recommend either. Bad for the soul.



Speak, thy writer is listening.

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