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February 8, 2021

You know how Facebook throws up memories? Sometimes these memories make you smile, sometimes you shrug, on very, very rare occasions they change your life, and every now and then your response is “Huh?”

The latter happened yesterday when this seven-year-old memory appeared.

Huh? What the hell prompted that? I can guarantee you I had absolutely no intention of travelling to Las Vegas seven years ago, let alone staying there for seven months. I shared the memory with a message indicating I had no bloody idea what it was about.

A couple of friends suggested it was one of those things doing the rounds for breast cancer awareness or something: ridiculous statements everyone was supposed to post as their status. That vaguely rang a bell, although, given my attitude towards breast cancer awareness month, I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t have been the cause. No idea what was. Mental health, perhaps?

It did, however, get me thinking about the one time I did go to Las Vegas. Hard to believe it was 30 years ago. (How the hell is that possible?) I was one of a busload of people who travelled from the Greenpeace Vancouver office to attend a conference on nuclear disarmament and a protest at the Nevada nuclear test site. Sound surreal? Yeah, it was. It really was.

As I reminded myself this morning reading what I wrote about the trip at the time. Click here if you want to know more.

Despite this invitation from best cop ever Wayne, I did not go back the next year or any other year. I hate the bloody place.

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