thunter.fearloathinglasvegas-第25部分

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derstand　it。　I　glanced　in　the　mirror　and　saw　my　attorney　climbing　into　the　plane；　no　sign　of　a　struggle。。。and　then　I　was　through　the　gate　and　out　into　the　early　morning　traffic　on　Paradise　Road。
　　
　　I　took　a　fast　right　on　Russell；　then　a　left　onto　Maryland　Parkway。。。and　suddenly　I　was　cruising　in　warm　anonym　ity　past　the　campus　of　the　University　of　Las　Vegas。。。no　tension　on　these　faces；　I　stopped　at　a　red　light　and　got　lost；　for　a　moment；　in　a　sunburst　of　flesh　in　the　cross…walk：　fine　sinewy　thighs；　pink　mini…skirts；　ripe　young　nipples；　sleeveless　blouses；　long　sweeps　of　blonde　hair；　pink　lips　and　blue　eyes…　all　the　hallmarks　of　a　dangerously　innocent　culture。
　　I　was　tempted　to　pull　over　and　start　mumbling　obscene　en　treaties：　〃Hey；　Sweetie；　let's　you　and　me　get　weird。　Jump　into　this　hotdog　Caddy　and　we'll　flash　over　to　my　suite　at　the　Flamingo；　load　up　on　ether　and　behave　like　wild　animals　in　my　private；　kidney…shaped　pool　。。〃　Sure　we　will；　I　thought。　But　by　this　time　I　was　far　down　the　parkway；　easing　into　the　turn　lane　for　a　left　at　Flamingo　Road。　Back　to　the　hotel；　to　take　stock。　There　was　every　reason　to　believe　I　was　heading　for　trouble；　that　I'd　pushed　my　luck　a　bit　far。　I'd　abused　every　rule　Vegas　lived　by…burning　locals；　abusing　the　tourists；　terrifying　the　help。
　　The　only　hope　now；　I　felt；　was　the　possibility　that　we'd　gone　to　such　excess；　with　our　gig；　that　nobody　in　a　position　to　bring　the　hammer　down　on　us　could　possibly　believe　it。　Particularily　not　since　we'd　signed　in　with　the　Police　Conference。　When　you　bring　an　act　into　this　town；　you　want　to　bring　it　in　heavy。　Don't　waste　any　time　with　cheap　shucks　and　misde　minors。　Go　straight　for　the　jugular。　Get　right　into　felonies。
　　The　mentality　of　Las　Vegas　is　so　grossly　atavistic　that　a　really　massive　crime　often　slips　by　unrecognized。　One　of　my　neighbors　recently　spent　a　week　in　the　Vegas　jail　for　〃vagrancy。〃　He's　about　twenty　years　old：　Long　hair；　Levi　jacket；　napsack…an　out…front　drifter；　a　straight　Road　Person。　Totally　harmless；　he　just　wanders　around　the　country　looking　whatever　it　was　that　we　all　thought　we'd　nailed　down　in　in　the　Sixties…sort　of　an　early　Bob　Zimmerman　trip。
　　On　a　trip　from　Chicago　to　L。A。；　he　got　curious　about　Vegas　and　decided　to　have　a　look　at　it。　Just　passing　through；　strolling　and　digging　the　sights　on　the　Strip　。。。　no　hurry；　why　rush？　He　was　standing　on　a　street…corner　near　the　Circus　Circus；　watching　the　multi…colored　fountain；　when　the　cop…cruiser　pulled　up。
　　Wham。　Straight　to　jail。　No　phone　call；　no　lawyer；　no　charge。　〃They　put　me　in　the　car　and　took　me　down　to　the　station。〃　he　said。　〃They　took　me　into　a　big　room　full　of　people　to　take　off　all　my　clothes　before　they　booked　me。　I　was　standing　in　front　of　a　big　desk；　about　six　feet　tall；　with　a　cop　sitting　behind　it　and　looking　down　at　me　like　some　kind　of　medieval　judge。
　　〃The　room　was　full　of　people。　Maybe　a　dozen　prisoners；　twice　that　many　cops；　and　about　ten　policewomen。　You　had　to　walk　out　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　then　take　everything　out　of　your　pockets　and　put　it　up　on　the　desk　and　then　strip　naked…with　everybody　watching　you。
　　〃I　only　had　about　twenty　bucks；　and　the　fine　for　vagrancy　was　twenty…five；　so　they　put　me　over　on　a　bench　with　the　peo　ple　who　were　going　to　jail。　Nobody　hassled　me。　It　was　like　an　assembly　line。
　　〃The　two　guys　right　behind　me　were　longhairs。　Acid　people。　They'd　been　picked　up　for　vagrancy；　too。　But　when　they　started　emptying　their　pockets；　the　whole　room　freaked。　Between　them；　they　had　130；000；　mostly　in　big　bills。　The　cops　couldn't　believe　it。　These　guys　just　kept　pulling　out　wads　of　money　and　dumping　it　up　there　on　the　desk…both　of　them　naked　and　kind　of　hunched　over；　not　saying　anything。
　　
　　〃The　cops　went　crazy　when　they　saw　all　that　money。　They　started　whispering　to　each　other；　shit；　there　was　no　way　they　could　hold　these　guys　for　'vagrancy。〃'　He　laughed。　〃So　they　charged　them　with　'suspicion　of　evasion　of　ine　taxes。'　〃They　took　us　all　to　jail；　and　these　two　guys　were　just　about　nuts。　They　were　dealers；　of　course；　and　they　had　their　stash　back　in　their　hotel　room…so　they　had　to　get　out　before　the　cops　found　out　where　they　were　staying。
　　〃They　offered　one　of　the　guards　a　hundred　bucks　to　go　out　and　get　the　best　lawyer　in　town。。。and　about　twenty　minutes　later　there　he　was；　yelling　about　habeas　corpus　and　that　kind　of　shit。。。hell；　I　tried　to　talk　to　him　myself；　but　this　guy　had　a　one…track　mind。　I　told　him　I　could　make　bail　and　even　pay　him　something　if　they'd　let　me　call　my　father　in　Chicago；　but　he　was　too　busy　hustling　for　these　other　guys。
　　〃About　two　hours　later　he　came　back　with　a　guard　and　said　'Let's　go。'　They　were　out。　One　of　the　guys　had　told　me；　while　they　were　waiting；　that　it　was　going　to　cost　them　30；000。。。and　I　guess　it　did；　but　what　the　hell？　That's　cheap；　pared　to　what　would　have　happened　If　they　hadn't　got　themselves　sprung。
　　〃They　finally　let　me　send　a　telegram　to　my　old　man　and　he　wired　me　125　bucks　。　。　。but　it　took　seven　or　eight　days。　I'm　not　sure　how　long　I　was　in　there；　because　the　place　didn't　have　any　windows　and　they　fed　us　every　twelve　hours。。。You　lose　track　of　time　when　you　can't　see　the　sun。　〃They　had　seventy…five　guys　in　each　cell…big　rooms　with　a　bowl　out　in　the　middle。　They　gave　you　a　pallet　when　came　in；　and　you　slept　wherever　you　wanted。　The　guy　next　to　me　had　been　in　there　for　thirty　years；　for　robbing　a　gas　station。
　　〃When　I　finally　got　out；　the　cop　on　the　desk　took　another　twenty…five　bucks　out　of　what　my　father　sent　me；　on　top　of　what　I　owed　for　the　vagrancy　fine。　What　could　I　say？　He　just　took　it。　Then　he　gave　me　the　other　75　and　said　they　had　a　cab　waiting　for　me　outside；　for　the　ride　to　the　airport。。。and　when　I　got　in　the　cab　the　driver　said；　'We're　not　making　any　stops；　fella；　and　you'd　better　not　move　until　we　get　to　the　terminal。'　〃I　didn't　move　a　goddamn　muscle。　He'd　have　shot　me。　I'm　sure　of　that。　I　went　straight　to　the　plane　and　I　didn't　say　a　word　to　anybody　until　I　knew　we　were　out　of　Nevada。　Man；　it's　one　place　I'll　never　go　back　to。〃
　　
　　　11。　Fraud？　Larcent？　Rape？。。。A　Brutal　Connection　with　the　Alice　from　Room　Service
　　
　　I　was　brooding　on　this　tale　as　I　eased　the　White　Whale　into　Flamingo　parking　lot。　Fifty　bucks　and　a　week　in　jail　for　standing　on　a　corner　and　acting　curious。。。
　　Jesus；　what　kind　of　incredible　penalties　would　they　spew　out　on　me？　I　eked　off　the　various　charges…but　in　skeleton；　legal…lan　re　form　they　didn't　seem　so　bad：　Rape？　We　could　surely　beat　that　one。　I'd　never　even　coveted　the　goddamn　girl；　much　less　put　my　hands　on　her　flesh。　Fraud？　Larceny？　I　could　always　offer　to　〃settle。〃　Pay　it　off。　Say　I　was　sent　out　here　by　Sports　Illustrated　and　then　drag　the　Time。　Inc。　lawyers　into　a　nightmare　lawsuit。　Tie　them　up　for　years　with　a　blizzard　of　writs　and　appeals。
　　Attach　all　their　assets　in　places　like　Juneau　and　Houston；　then　constantly　file　for　change　of　venue　to　Quito；　Nome　and　Aruba。。。keep　the　thing　moving；　run　them　in　circles；　force　them　into　conflict　with　the　accounting　department：
　　
　　TIME　SHEET　FOR　ABNER　H。　DODGE；
　　
　　CHIEF　COUNSEL　Item　44；066。12。。。　Special　outlay；　to　wit：　We　pursued　the　defendant；　R。　Duke；　throughtout　the　Western　Hemosphere　and　finally　brought　him　to　bay　in　a　village　on　the　north　shore　of　an　island　known　as　Culebra　in　the　Caribbean；　where　his　attorney　obtained　a　ruliong　that　all　further　proceedings　should　be　conducted　in　the　language　of　the　Carib　tribe。　We　sent　three　men　to　Berlitz　for　this　purpose；　but　nineteen　hours　before　the　date　scheduled　for　opening　arguments；　the　defendant　fled　to　Colombia；　where　he　established　residence　in　a　fishing　village　called　Guajira　near　the　Venezuelan　border；　where　the　official　language　of　jurisprudence　is　an　obscure　dialect　known　as　〃Guajiro。〃　After　many　monthe　we　were　able　to　establish　3urls…　diction　in　this　place；　but　by　that　time　the　defendant　had　moved　his　residence　to　a　virtually　inaccessible　port　at　the　headwaters　of　the　Amazon　River；　where　he　cultivated　powerful　connec　tions　with　a　tribe　of　headhunters　called　'〃Jibaros。〃　Our　stringer　in　Manaus　was　dispatched　upriver；　to　locate　and　hire　a　native　attorney　conversant　in　Jibaro；　but　the　search　has　been　hampered　by　serious　munications　problems。　There　is　in　fact　grave　concern；　in　our　Rio　office；　that　the　widow　of　the　aforementioned　Manaus　stringer　might　obtain　a　ruinous　judgment…due　to　bias　in　local　courts…far　larger　than　any　thing　a　jury　in　our　own　country　would　consider　reasonable　or　even　sane。
　　Indeed。　But　what　is　sane？　Especially　here　in　〃our　own　country〃…in　this　doomstruck　era　of　Nixon。　We　are　all　wired　into　a　survival　trip　now。　No　more　of　the　speed　that　fueled　the　Sixties。　Uppers　are　going　out　of　style。　This　was　the　fatal　flaw　in　Tim　Leary's　trip。　He　crashed　around　America　selling　〃con　sciousness　expansion〃　without　ever　giving　a　thought　to　the　grim　meat…hook　realities　that　were　lying　in　wait　for　all　the　people　who　took　him　too　seriously。　After　West　Point　and　the　Priesthood；　LSD　must　have　seemed　entirely　logical　to　him。。。but　there　is　not　much　satisfaction　in　knowing　that　he　blew　it　very　badiy　for　himself；　because　he　took　too　many　oth　ers　down　with　him。
　　Not　that　they　didn't　deserve　it：　No　doubt　they　all　Got　What　Was　ing　To　Them。　All　those　pathetically　eager　acid　freaks　who　thought　they　could　buy　Peace　and　Understanding　fot　three　bucks　a　hit。　But　their　failure　is　ours；　too。
　　
　　What　Leary　took　down　with　him　was　the　central　illusion　of　a　whole　life…style　that　he　helped　to　create。。。a　generation　of　permanent　cripples；　failed　seekers；　who　never　understood　the　essential　old…mystic　fallacy　of　the　Acid　Culture：　the　desperate　assumption　that　somebody…or　at　least　some　force…is　tending　that　Light　at　the　end　of　the　tunnel。
　　
　　This　is　the　same　cruel　and　paradoxically　benevolent　bullshit　has　kept　the　Catholic　Church　going　for　so　many　centuries。　It　is　also　the　military　ethic。。。a　blind　faith　in　some　higher　and　wiser　〃authority。〃　The　Pope；　The　General；　The　Prime　Minister　。　。　。　all　the　way　up　to　〃God。〃　One　of　the　crucial　moments　of　the　Sixties　came　on　that　day　when　the　Beatles　cast　their　lot　with　the　Maharishi。　It　was　like　Dylan　going　to　the　Vatican　to　kiss　the　Pope's　ring。
　　First　〃gur