Spaghetti Bowl and Ed McMahon

Ed McMahon is on the Howard Stern Show telling me that there are no jobs in Las Vegas because of 9/11. Well fuck you Mr. McMahon. I’m just arriving to Vegas, as in arriving because my car is full, arriving to Vegas because at this moment, I’m trying to get to my new apartment before my roommate leaves for work. Ed McMahon is not helping my nervous breakdown while I am stuck in the spaghetti bowl in a traffic jam at 6:00. Ed McMahon is not helping because I have not slept in twenty eight hours. Ed McMahon is, is on the Howard Stern Show. Why the hell is Ed McMahon on the Howard Stern Show? Why not, this is Vegas!
Looking back at this moment, I realized that I was probably putting myself at great risk driving that far, for that long with no sleep, but I was on a mission. This was my great trek west. I was formally declaring my independence by driving this entire way and moving to Vegas.
Well, with the help of Howard Stern and Ed McMahon toward the end of my trip, I made it to Vegas in one piece. As I fell into some traffic as I entered the strip area, I was listening to the local radio announcer tell me “There was an abrupt stop of traffic near Sahara and the Spaghetti Bowl.” Well I could see the Sahara exit but it was years later till I realized that the “Spaghetti Bowl” wasn’t as much a place where a football game was played as it was an intersection with 3 major service streets and 3 of the freeways that run through Las Vegas. Hence Spaghetti Bowl. Who knew?
I reached my new apartment about ten minutes before my roommate, who I had only met once, was on his way to work. What a second experience that must have been for him? Who is this very naive Wisconsin kid and where was the put together, knowledgeable vacationer I met only a month prior? Well that person was not there with me. I arrived, was a panic and had no clue what to do next. He gave me a key, told me to park in his spot so it was easy to move my things, and get some sleep. How interesting to think of myself on that very morning. It is someone that I don’t even recognize. I had no clue, not even in the slightest. No clue what I wanted to do, no clue about income, and no clue about who I was. I was a white canvas.
I did exactly what he said. I moved all my stuff into the apartment, took a shower, called my mother, and then took a nap. When I woke up, I realized that I had moved to this city of 3 million people and I knew no one. NOT A SOUL.