Walking home from work sucks. I got stuck late and missed the 11:33 Pecos bus. The next one isn't until 12:33. I chose to walk home. It's about 6 miles, but it would take just as long to walk as to wait for the next bus. Pecos is different from the streets you might know. It's too wide for the traffic. In some parts, the sidewalks seem to have been put for decoration rather than for the convenience of pedestrians. One half-mile stretch nearest my work doesn’t have a sidewalk at all. Being on street level dramatically changes one’s perspective of a city. I’m inundated; lost dog and missing children posters taped to utility poles cry out at me. One wonders if they were driven mad by the recent blasts of celebratory fireworks or just from the non-stop desert kiln-like heat. Abandoned yard sale signs litter the road’s shoulder; their companions broken beer bottles and cigarette butts. How much garbage is out here, I wonder. There must be just tons of cigarette butts alone. Do they eventually make their way to Lake Mead or just fade into the desert? I think their half-life is something like 10,000 years. They’ll keep those scary things in the test range company. Somewhere near Tropicana Blvd it starts looking like a real street. The traffic picks up; there are stores, and even an independent theater (an orphan in Las Vegas.) I see a car going my direction in the far lane. It’s lights flicker off then the car dies. A man approaches and tries to help. I’m still a half-mile away. The lights keep turning off and on; I think that they will be hit. They are still in the road when I make it closer so I help push the car across the street. I leave before checking if the driver is all right. There is a pay phone right there and two other men to help. I continue down the street. I’ve only traveled two miles. It’s at least another half hour until the next bus. It’s not worth the wait. I need a battery for my watch. Well, one of my three watches. I could have made the Harmon bus if I’d waited at Pecos. It passed me just before Eastern. Just after Eastern, one of the men who was pushing the car with me passed by in his car. I’d assumed he was a pedestrian that was waiting for the Tropicana bus. He offered to give me a ride, saving me the last mile or so. I got in just before one A.M. exhausted. There was some scotch on the counter and beer in the refrigerator so I managed to forget my problems for one more night.