Travelogue: The Eighth Plague

The story you are about to read is true. I've kept the names the same because, as much as I love Hunter S. Thompson, gonzo journalism isn't my thing. I'm more of a Joe Friday/Dragnet guy.


I'd like to say that my sports futures scouting expedition to Las Vegas started off innocently enough. But that wouldn't be the truth. The fact is, I hadn't even left Tri-Cities (TRI) airport on my flight's first leg, when the weirdness began.

I had ordered a coffee and a chocolate muffin at the restaurant in the gate area. The cashier squinted at the total on the register and hesitated. She seemed somewhat taken aback. The amount was $6.66. She said that she refused to ring it up, and that she would bill me for a different pastry. I shrugged and said okay, and she rang up something else so that I owed $6.24. I thanked her, gathered my change, and sat down to enjoy my snack and ponder the likelihood of a $6.66 bill.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed that my flight had been delayed, although skies were clear and weather from TRI to Charlotte was perfect. I noticed because the gate attendants began rebooking half of my flight's passengers, starting with an announcement for Pastor A and then a second announcement for Pastor B. I can't say that I've ever noticed back-to-back pastor announcements during my hundreds of thousands of miles flown. Luck of the draw, I guessed.

I knew my connection would be tight, but the gate folks assured me that I'd make it. I settled back down with coffee and muffin and finally noticed the news. Las Vegas, Sin City, was being invaded by grasshoppers. Well, that was different. Video from the previous evening showed giant mega-swarms spiraling around an intense white beam cutting through the night sky. The sky-splitting white light came from the pinnacle of the black pyramid casino known as the Luxor. Downtown Las Vegas, which was the original founding point for the city, was also inundated with flitting, flapping clouds of tawny locusts. If the Luxor was the city's southern Gomorrah, then the downtown four miles north certainly fit the bill as a modern Sodom. They were both covered in bugs.

As I watched videos of the grasshoppers swarming all white lights, I felt compelled to google the number of the Old Testament locust plague. As it turned out, locusts were the eighth of the plagues visited upon ancient Egypt. Remembering how these Moses plagues culminated, I realized that I was a firstborn. Not a good thing. I also knew that I would be turning 62 while in Las Vegas, and six plus two equals eight, and locusts are the eighth plague.

I finished my coffee and boarded the plane, which was running even later than advertised. As I mentioned, I have six decades of living under my belt, so jogging across the Charlotte airport lugging a bag is no picnic. I made my Las Vegas flight by three minutes. I had the middle seat for the nearly five-hour flight, so it came as no surprise that I learned a few things about my seat mates. The young man on my right was heading to Las Vegas for a plastic surgery residency. The older gentleman with the window seat was an avid bowler and world traveler. He was also a minister returning from a mission in Kenya. Something about his build and demeanor suggested James Earl Jones, which set off some locust bell in the back of my head. I had to be wrong. What could a minister returning from Kenya have to do with locusts in Las Vegas? Then I remembered -- "Exorcist II:  The Heretic."

The Exorcist movies were all about the presence of demonic entities. In "The Heretic," the swarming of African locusts was a direct consequence of the influence of demons in the natural world. The locusts, like people, could be agitated by Satan and swayed to do great harm.

I watched more Las Vegas locust videos during the flight. The minister, meanwhile, wanted assurances that the turkey bacon on the airline's club sandwich was indeed turkey and not pork. The flight attendant refused to confirm this for him, but we both ordered it anyway. The plastic-surgeon-to-be fell asleep with his textbook open to something about smiling. I kept wondering what would happen if jet engines encountered swarms of locusts. The flight, however, went smoothly, and we landed in Las Vegas without incident Saturday evening.

Early Sunday morning, while checking the Golden Nugget futures and William Hill futures at the Plaza, I was continually approached by working girls, presumably having finished their money-making overnight Saturday shifts. I was too tired to give cute responses, so I simply asked them if they should be in church.

My numbers surveying, and the trip itself, went about as expected. I found a few bargains here and there. I managed to visit South Point, where iconic oddsmaker Jimmy Vaccaro had returned in time for 2019 kickoff. My diet went to hell, as it usually does when I'm in Las Vegas, and I once again managed to discern the difference between 105-degree days, which I handle quite well, and 112-degree days, which I do not. I almost dozed off in the parking lot of the Orleans at 3 AM, but it was a hundred degrees, and I didn't want to crack the windows. I couldn't afford for a gazillion locusts to swarm the rental car. Dozing in the parking lot was a no go.

The five-day trip was physically brutal (112 degrees usually is), but things went smoothly. I did a reasonable job of surveying numbers and understanding where they were going. When I boarded my final return leg, from Charlotte to Tri-Cities, I had almost forgotten about plagues and $6.66 snacks and Biblical resonances.

I plopped into my seat on the little Embraer for the 45-minute flight. My seat mate introduced himself. He was about my age, and he had just signed a five-year contract to work as a consultant in the United Arab Emirates. His name was Mickey. Mickey Bible.


Bob Dietz -- August 13, 2019


Postscript:  I enjoyed writing this, and every detail is true. What's equally true is that, sufficiently motivated, we can all construct similar stories highlighting pseudo-connections for a synchronicity framework on which we can hang the details of our lives.