"I didn't make it up," he claims in the documentary, "I said that a rumour suggested he was taking ibogaine, which I know is true - because I started the rumour."
Heavy eyelids weighing on my already-tired mind, I settle down to watch the rest of the film in a makeshift sofa bed with a glass of Cabernet. With the lights turned off, I try to concentrate. It's imperative that I don't fall asleep during this programme. But why? I can't help the feeling that there is something else I need to be doing. Some reason I'm sat here at 4am trying to stay awake to watch the film. Wouldn't I be better waiting til the morning - I had the next day booked off work after all.
Shit, that's it, of course. The very reason I'm off work tomorrow, the only reason I'm even watching Gonzo journalism films and reading Hunter Thompson books - Las Vegas. That's why I mustn't fall asleep, my train leaves in two hours. Fatigue was clearly in real danger of ruining my trip before it had begun - but wasn't I on a plane just a matter of minutes ago?
I turned round in my front room to find my case half-packed but with no sign of my dollars. In a safe place no doubt. Turning my suitcase upside down I find my dollars were in there all along, as was a letter hidden by my girlfriend for me to find on my arrival in Vegas. Well, I'd ruined the surprise now hadn't I?
Snap. Awake. I knew it. I am on the plane. Unless I've fallen asleep watching the film and I'm dreaming that I'm on the plane. It's difficult to know. Are they the Rocky mountains below? Maybe not. They have blue peaks. Vivid blue peaks. Some light-reflection trick? Or optical illusion. Or it's a dream?
Power lines? Maybe the long, straight grooves from before were power lines - the only link between frosty, isolated hamlets in the sparse world below. I have half hour left before landing and the terrain is still covered with snow. I thought Nevada was the desert state? Hot, dry and windswept?
"THE FASTEN SEATBELT SIGN WILL NOW BE SWITCHED ON AS WE BEGIN OUR DESCENT"
In a flash, the dusty white scenery turns red. Now, this is desert country. Michelle is 40 today and the cabin crew would like to wish her a happy birthday - cue a round of applause. How very American.
Outside the ice has gone. What ice? Was it ever there in the first place? Am I still dreaming? The changeable terrain really has to be seen to be believed. Why don't I have the camera in my hand luggage. Definitely an oversight (it actually turns out to be far bigger an oversight than I had ever expected, but more about that later).
The jagged hills turn a pastel orange dotted with rocky bubbles of pale peachy colours, deep reds and charcoal blacks. Water, the sun shines as we bank north over a clear blue lake. I've been awake for 15 hours and it's still only 2pm.
The arrogant boy in front has also been forced to put his seat back up, which serves as a moral victory for the next 20 minutes at least. Another announcement, this time congratulating Ted on his recent civil partnership. No applause this time. People are probably bored of clapping but it doesn't look great as an introduction to the state. "Nevada, we love birthdays, but not homosexuals."
Landing gear, highways, cars, houses, well, trailers but actual civilisation anyway. Followed by more colours that I haven't already described and don't know how to. Do they mine pastels here, if they don't then they really ought to. The landscape looks like a child's chalk drawing, where the colours bear very little semblance to reality.
Bump. The touchdown on the dusty concrete wakes me with a start and I'm sat back in my front room at home, the Gonzo film blaring out and late for my train to the airport...
Just joking. I've actually, genuinely arrived in Las Vegas and, what's more, it's only 2pm and I have the whole day ahead f me to try to stay awake. Most importantly. I can see my hotel from the runway.
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