Page 114 - NyghtVision Magazine Volume 3 #3

that offered coffee for ten cents and beer for a the registers there was a very white man wear-
dollar. When we got our drinks we went to the ing a black coat that had a huge white cross on
counter to pay. The cashier was not terribly old it and on the cross the words “White Power.”
but her face was deeply lined and I could sense Judging by his interaction with the cashier,
in her a deep longing coupled with frustration she didn’t have a problem with him or with
and hopelessness. “Beautiful day,” I said to her what he was wearing.
after she asked “How are you today?” without
caring or wanting to listen to my response. didn’t see a single African American
“Yeah. Too cold for me.” Her eyes never met in Kingman…….. Arrogance. Igno-
mine and her voice never changed. A mono- rance. Myopia.
tone of despair. “Take care,” I said. “That was I All deeply dangerous.
scary,” I said to JD. “Yeah man, what is it with We left Kingman as the sun began to settle
these people?” I took that to be a rhetorical into the distant hills. Much of the conversation
question. continued the discussion about what we had
In f
seen.
Kingman, Arizona, we went
into the Wal-Mart to get some
looks in their eyes. A kind of inherent sadness. It’s
“stuff” for breakfast. It was
shocking. It wasn’t the Wal-
morning now. A pot of
Mart – after all it resembled any other Wal-
coffee brews. I am still in
Kingman, Golden Valley,
Mart. It was the people. Something about the
Searchlight……….
A sense of being lost. Hopelessness. As though the desert of Arizona and Nevada.■ And
dotting the “I” and crossing the “T” by one of

Nelson, NV: A radio in an abandoned car.

114 | the vegas chronicles, part 2