After accepting Jasmine's invitation, I couldn't resist the opportunity to proclaim, "I thought only NERDS had telescopes! What the heck is a beautiful woman like you doing with a piece of equipment like that?" She smiled big for me and proclaimed, "I guess you could say that I've always been kind of a voyeur." I had absolutely no reply to that confession; but the more I thought about this upcoming date (our third, so far) the better it was starting to sound.
There's a local Las Vegas (Nevada) saying that goes something like: "If you can't see the Stratosphere Tower, then you are truly a long way from the 'The Strip.'" And that tower was way out of sight when, last night, Jasmine and I drove off the I-95 and onto an isolated dirt road, about 16 kilometers (10 miles) south of a little town called Indian Springs. As I turned off the engine and released my hands from the steering wheel, I gazed deeply into Jasmine's eyes, to sort of assess whether or not there existed any romantic possibilities. Unfortunately, she was all business, and methodically exited the car into the crystal-clear night and proceeded to open the rear door to reach for her beloved telescope.
Once we were both outside, I held my powerful (but small) Maglite flashlight for her as she seemed to have some difficulty with the telescope assembly. "Do you know what you're doing there, Jaz?'" I taunted, to which she just looked up at me with those ultra-big, piercing brown eyes and smiled, without saying a word. Then I strolled up behind her to give her a hug-from-behind and a kiss on the back of her ticklish neck. "Not now!" she exclaimed, with a raised voice. So I backed off and sat on the hood of my car, playfully blinding her eyes with the radiant beam of my flashlight.
Then I noticed what appeared to be a campfire, far away up the eastern foothills. Being exquisitely bored, I began to flash my Maglite in the direction of the "campers," prompting Jasmine to chide, "YOU are such a NERD!" But I kept right on doing it until a second campfire appeared on the horizon--further down the mountain and closer to us than the first one. Then I realized that both lights were moving down the mountain and towards us.
"Hey Jaz'--look. Those aren't campfires. Those are headlights" She gave me a sideways glance and asked, "Are they coming this way?" "Ya, I think so," I answered. She calmly resumed her telescope assembly, but I started to internally panic because those two vehicles were virtually flying down that hill--and most assuredly in our direction.
I had to take control of this situation: "Jaz,' let's put the telescope away and get the heck out of here." "What?" she laughingly replied. "Are you scared of those two vehicles coming?" "If it was just me out here, I could care less," I sternly answered. "But because you're here with me, we need to go. Now." After a few moments of silence, she got the picture when she saw how fast the vehicles were traveling down the hill--so she helped me grab her now assembled telescope (and tripod), and we literally threw them both into my car's backseat.
We then practically jumped into our seats as I quickly started the car and peeled out out of there and straight onto the I-95--this time heading south, back towards Las Vegas.
After driving about 8 kilometers, our worst fears materialized when two jet-black, siren-equipped SUV's (adorned with U.S. Government license plates) pulled us over onto the side of the interstate freeway. As Jasmine started to loudly weep, two Air Force enlisted men--dressed in "flights," and armed with automatic weapons strapped to their shoulders--ordered us both to exit our vehicle. After thoroughly checking my car for heaven-knows-what and running both my driver's license and vehicle license plates, one of the soldiers turned to me and asked:
"Did you know you were parked on the south range of the Nevada Test Site?" "No sir, I did not," I respectfully replied. "My girlfriend (a lie, of course--as mentioned, this was only our third date) and I were getting ready to do some stargazing. That's why we have the telescope in the back seat.
"Okay, sounds reasonable," the second soldier said, while looking at the first. "Just don't ever cross onto that dirt road again, OK?"
"Yes sir," I dutifully answered. "You have my word on that." I then looked over at Jasmine and gestured that we both get back inside the car.
After that incident, our date didn't exactly progress in the manner that I had hoped--obviously, I suppose. A few kilometers down the road, the panic caused by this surreal situation subsided--but the only words Jasmine spoke where that she wanted me to drive her home. I looked at her and nodded--disappointed, of course--but happy that she moved her quivering hand towards mine, grasped it, and didn't let go until we reached her North Las Vegas apartment complex.
As I pulled into her apartment's lone parking space, she practically leaped out of my car, as I calmly grabbed her telescope and tripod--and walked her up the single flight of stairs that leads to her apartment's door. We neither looked at each other nor said a word, as I handed her equipment and turned around to walk down the stairs and back towards my black sedan.
Just then I noticed a faint shooting star falling towards the western horizon as I thought, "Well that's just great." And then I heard what sounded like a drunken, elderly man laughing loudly in the distance--in the same general direction as the recently perished meteorite. "Well, I guess tonight's going to be a 'do nothing at home' kind of night," I whispered to myself as I then practically stumbled onto the front seat of my car, and then coolly drove off into the night.
There's a local Las Vegas (Nevada) saying that goes something like: "If you can't see the Stratosphere Tower, then you are truly a long way from the 'The Strip.'" And that tower was way out of sight when, last night, Jasmine and I drove off the I-95 and onto an isolated dirt road, about 16 kilometers (10 miles) south of a little town called Indian Springs. As I turned off the engine and released my hands from the steering wheel, I gazed deeply into Jasmine's eyes, to sort of assess whether or not there existed any romantic possibilities. Unfortunately, she was all business, and methodically exited the car into the crystal-clear night and proceeded to open the rear door to reach for her beloved telescope.
Once we were both outside, I held my powerful (but small) Maglite flashlight for her as she seemed to have some difficulty with the telescope assembly. "Do you know what you're doing there, Jaz?'" I taunted, to which she just looked up at me with those ultra-big, piercing brown eyes and smiled, without saying a word. Then I strolled up behind her to give her a hug-from-behind and a kiss on the back of her ticklish neck. "Not now!" she exclaimed, with a raised voice. So I backed off and sat on the hood of my car, playfully blinding her eyes with the radiant beam of my flashlight.
Then I noticed what appeared to be a campfire, far away up the eastern foothills. Being exquisitely bored, I began to flash my Maglite in the direction of the "campers," prompting Jasmine to chide, "YOU are such a NERD!" But I kept right on doing it until a second campfire appeared on the horizon--further down the mountain and closer to us than the first one. Then I realized that both lights were moving down the mountain and towards us.
"Hey Jaz'--look. Those aren't campfires. Those are headlights" She gave me a sideways glance and asked, "Are they coming this way?" "Ya, I think so," I answered. She calmly resumed her telescope assembly, but I started to internally panic because those two vehicles were virtually flying down that hill--and most assuredly in our direction.
I had to take control of this situation: "Jaz,' let's put the telescope away and get the heck out of here." "What?" she laughingly replied. "Are you scared of those two vehicles coming?" "If it was just me out here, I could care less," I sternly answered. "But because you're here with me, we need to go. Now." After a few moments of silence, she got the picture when she saw how fast the vehicles were traveling down the hill--so she helped me grab her now assembled telescope (and tripod), and we literally threw them both into my car's backseat.
We then practically jumped into our seats as I quickly started the car and peeled out out of there and straight onto the I-95--this time heading south, back towards Las Vegas.
After driving about 8 kilometers, our worst fears materialized when two jet-black, siren-equipped SUV's (adorned with U.S. Government license plates) pulled us over onto the side of the interstate freeway. As Jasmine started to loudly weep, two Air Force enlisted men--dressed in "flights," and armed with automatic weapons strapped to their shoulders--ordered us both to exit our vehicle. After thoroughly checking my car for heaven-knows-what and running both my driver's license and vehicle license plates, one of the soldiers turned to me and asked:
"Did you know you were parked on the south range of the Nevada Test Site?" "No sir, I did not," I respectfully replied. "My girlfriend (a lie, of course--as mentioned, this was only our third date) and I were getting ready to do some stargazing. That's why we have the telescope in the back seat.
"Okay, sounds reasonable," the second soldier said, while looking at the first. "Just don't ever cross onto that dirt road again, OK?"
"Yes sir," I dutifully answered. "You have my word on that." I then looked over at Jasmine and gestured that we both get back inside the car.
After that incident, our date didn't exactly progress in the manner that I had hoped--obviously, I suppose. A few kilometers down the road, the panic caused by this surreal situation subsided--but the only words Jasmine spoke where that she wanted me to drive her home. I looked at her and nodded--disappointed, of course--but happy that she moved her quivering hand towards mine, grasped it, and didn't let go until we reached her North Las Vegas apartment complex.
As I pulled into her apartment's lone parking space, she practically leaped out of my car, as I calmly grabbed her telescope and tripod--and walked her up the single flight of stairs that leads to her apartment's door. We neither looked at each other nor said a word, as I handed her equipment and turned around to walk down the stairs and back towards my black sedan.
Just then I noticed a faint shooting star falling towards the western horizon as I thought, "Well that's just great." And then I heard what sounded like a drunken, elderly man laughing loudly in the distance--in the same general direction as the recently perished meteorite. "Well, I guess tonight's going to be a 'do nothing at home' kind of night," I whispered to myself as I then practically stumbled onto the front seat of my car, and then coolly drove off into the night.
