Adventures in America

Neon signs. Techno pop. Sleek sidewalks. Cards with nude girls and shoe marks. Homeless. Heat. Foreigners. Fast cars. Traffic. Lights. Long plastic tubes containing slushied alcohol. Carpeted floors. Sex. Marriage at first sight. Slots. Chips. Tables. Cards. Shows. Money. Welcome to the fabulous Las Vegas.

Pole position is located across from Palms Place. Walk inside to a roaring purr. We never thought of coming here. I'm not dressed for the activity. My dad and I walk up to the counter to buy two rounds each. We sit at metal tables on metal chairs that are cold against my back. I scan the crowd. Mostly men, presumable girlfriends, and the occasional family. I'm sweating. Fixed on the track ahead, the speed of the karts start to unnerve me.

Pole Position Raceway is an indoor Go-Karting company created by pro racer Casey Currie. The karts go up to 45mph. We wait for our names to be called. I watch intensely, following the leaders. Do they use the brake at corners? When do they release the pedal and turn the wheel?

Finally, we're summoned to watch a short informative video, then slip on a head sock and helmet, and venture to our designated karts. I do my best to tuck in my skirt under my legs. Deep breaths. It's slow at first as everyone enters the raceway. Once we're on track, the speed takes off. My skirt flutters violently against me. My mind attempts to keep up with the pace. I slow substantially on turns and accelerate furiously during open stretches. I look at the leader board. I'm third from being last. I look back ahead and slam instantly into my father who didn't make the turn. Now, I'm being followed. A lap of vicious nicking with a final slam against the wall. The race is over.

"I don't feel well."
"C'mon, one more time."

Adrenaline races through my veins. I think I'm prepared. I ask for help with the strap and seat adjustment. My father is right behind me. Once on the track, we battle for almost two laps until I win. I don't brake. I concentrate on maintaining speed. On sharp turns I pull the wheel hard, all the way, to make them. I feel it now. The track starts becoming instinctual. The flagman waves a checkered flag. One lap left. I look at the leader board. Third place.

Such rapid improvement. We exit the karts. I'm triumphant. We walk out and wait for the hotel shuttle. My dad sits on the step and takes out a cigarette.

"Thank you," I say giddily.
"I shouldn't have eaten that popcorn."
"Why not?"
"I feel like throwing up."