So I thought I should totally share the story of the best worst day ever. I feel I should start this story by setting the stage. I’m in Las Vegas, you know, the desert? Right, so it doesn’t rain all that often in the desert. And yet, since moving here all of two weeks ago it has rained three times, two of those times were substantial. Last night I woke up to thunder and lightning, the sort of thunder storm I expect in Illinois, but not so much in the desert. Cause it’s a desert.

So I get up, I get dressed, I’m running a little late but I should have plenty of time to make it to school. I decide to avoid the I-15 because it is doubtless backed up. My roommate supported me in this decision. Little did I know, though, just how wrong I was. Everything was going a little slow and everyone was driving cautiously, but I didn’t realize that cautiously in Vegas means not driving at all. That’s right, we all just inched our way to and through every stoplight at 5 mph. I understand it’s slick people, you crazy folks put oil in all your streets, sidewalks, what have you, and when it rains the oil makes things slick. I get that. But perhaps driving 5 mph when it isn’t quite that wet is being over cautious? I, therefore, found myself fifteen minutes late for my first class. It’s my first day, teaching my first class at UNLV, and I’m late. Exceptionally so. I hate my life.

At five minutes till I call the composition department to let them know I’m stuck in traffic. I figure they can send someone over to tell the kids or something. Thankfully when I got there everyone was still sitting I the classroom. Bless those freshmen. No one had come over to explain the situation to them so they were just sitting there dutifully waiting for me. Sometimes I love how much like sheep they all are. Due to running so late I didn’t have time to pick up my syllabus for the first class so I’m sans syllabus. Not to be deterred I wrote my name and email on the board, handed out the essay prompts and played it off like a pro. One crisis averted.
After that class I walked across campus, picked up my syllabus and began a trek back across campus to the, next class I was teaching. I had ten minutes. Plenty of time. Little did I know that when the sidewalks were wet my flip-flops would turn into frictionless traps of death! I don’t know how many times I slipped, but it was a lot. I never went down, thank goodness, but I did slip and slide my way across UNLV. It was a really long, annoying walk. By the time I got to my second class they are all standing outside the open door because “the Professor [wasn’t] there yet.” While the first class sat quietly, these guys couldn’t’ walk in and turn the light on with out me. I see it’s going to be a special sort of year.

I had a syllabus for those guys, though; I felt that made up for the fact that I was dripping sweat due to my exertion of trying not to fall on my ass all the way across campus. And, it was humid. That’s right. The only thing that makes the desert bearable is that it isn’t humid. It’s 100 degrees but you don’t care because it isn’t stifling. Today, however, it is somewhere around 85 or 90 degrees as I walk to class and very humid. I was sweating balls by the time I walked in. Nothing like making a truly memorable first impression.
So I now sit in Starbucks killing time until my first graduate course. The class I didn’t realize I had today and so don’t have the book for. It really is the best worst day ever.

Oh yeah, and I have gas. Viva Las Vegas baby. Viva, Las Vegas.