Your Scrumhalf Connection - Women's Rugby Blog

Day 3 ... according to Rosalind "Chou" Chou
Tempe to Las Vegas

Austin is synonymous with the phrase “Keepin’ it Weird.” For we Austin based Satiated Beavers, it is unclear if it was Austin “weirdness” or the mysterious winds of Roswell, New Mexico that were responsible for our oddly, adventured-filled day three of da’ bus tour.

All things seemed to be in order for the Beavs as we hit the road by 9:30am. We finally veered from Interstate 10 and were hit with beautiful scenery filled with Joshua trees. The temperature in the early morning was eighty-five degrees and it was only going to get hotter as we made our way to Las Vegas. As we trekked across the dessert, towns and filling stations became few and far between.

Lunchtime approached and we were hoping for a quick stop at a sandwich joint. We entered the town of Wikieup, AZ. It was the only town we had seen for miles and we were unsure when we would hit another. So, after driving down the main thoroughfare (which was about a half mile in length) Steph turned da’ bus around in a dirt patch so that we could pick up some lunch at the Wikieup Trading Post. Rebelliously, we ignored the posting “no buses” and unloaded.

An Old Western Trading Post is an acutely accurate description of our lunch destination. An old miner fortuneteller rests in the front hallway, which divides the store from the restaurant. We headed into the restaurant and one-by-one we ordered our sandwiches and burgers. We loitered in the middle of the dining area as three other tables of customers sat quietly enjoying their lunches. Suddenly, a table of four elderly patrons (two couples) began to sing as if they were a barbershop quartet, harmonizing, snapping in sync, and even Doo Wopping! Breaking into song is not really something you expect to happen in the everyday; so, we stood mesmerized by the quartet. Apparently, they were an act called the “Double Dates” that had just performed in Las Vegas and were heading home. They performed a total of three songs, and even emptied their booth to stand up for their finale; which incorporated some synchronized dance movements. Bags was especially enamored by the performance and got their autographs, talking with them, and sharing our beaver tale. In return, we thought we should share our beaver song, but in retrospect, we should have just kept our song to ourselves. The 65+ year-old crowd did not find “beaver dives” and hip gyrations as amusing as our past crowds. Some of us were left feeling awkwardly embarrassed afterward, while others were very proud. Live and learn, right?

We boarded back onto our bus and again made our way to Las Vegas. The ride got hotter and hotter and we got sweatier and sweatier. We continually drank water and Gatorade, but we Beavers’ thirst was NEVER satiated. We were more like the Dehydrated Beavers.

Signs began to appear for Hoover Dam, a modern man made wonder of the world. Most of us had never seen the dam before so there was much interest and curiosity in witnessing it for ourselves. The traffic came to a halt as we approached the dam. The road was filled with switchbacks and the water from Lake Mead was a shining turquoise blue.

[Disclaimer – this rendition of what happened at the Hoover Dam does not represent the thoughts and opinions of all the Beavers, but can appropriately be called the most accurate. (I, Rosalind, will be leaving the collective voice of all beavers and give the perspective of those who were the beavers were out of the bus.)] *

A number of us decided to exit the bus and walk along the dam. Krafty and Steph stayed in the bus as parking was difficult to find and they had to keep moving with the flow of traffic. We walked along the backside of the dam and Shalay took pictures of the scenery. Next thing I know, I see my teammates (Rocky, Tiff, Shay, and Burns) running. Shalay, Bags, and I straggled and were bringing up the rear. The three of us were unclear about the urgency to catch the bus while the wonderment of the Dam was intoxicating. Shalay took more pictures, and asked Bags and I to pose alongside the ledge of the dam. There were large pillars along the dam that acted as restrooms with golden doors that were reminiscent of when it was built in the 1930s. We passed by some cub scouts and automated tour guide voices as we lost sight of our bus. As we approached the visitor center, we three spotted the bus waiting at a yield sign at the exit road from the parking garage. Concerned, we started to pick up our pace so that da’ bus wouldn’t block traffic. We did not make it in time and da’ bus was forced to enter back on to the main road. Apparently, the other beavers were warring a Nazi-esque parking attendant who was unimpressed by our tale of woe.

Da’ bus headed up the mountain, looking for a place to pull over so that we cold reunite our beaver family. Unfortunately, the road was so narrow and the shoulder so small that they had climb to the apex of the mountain until they were able to find a pull-off spot. Luckily, I had my cellular phone so we could remain in contact with da’ bus. We wanted to march up the mountain, but a sign was clearly posted that no pedestrians were allowed past the parking garage. Hoping to appeal to the humanity of other Hoover Dam tourists, we thought we would thumb a ride with ease. Car after car passed us by, motorists shaking their heads as we attempted to communicate with them through closed windows. Bags attempted to talk to a group of three bikers, but they were carrying bags on their backseats and would not have room to tow us along. A security officer outside of the visitor center shouted at us from across the street:

Officer: You can’t hitchhike. It’s against the law.

Bags: We are just trying to get a ride to our bus. It’s just up the hill.

Officer: Nope, sorry. Call a cab.

Call a cab? Really? In the dessert? With no help from the officer, we headed to the parking garage. We hoped to convince some tourists to help out wayward beaver ruggers before they entered their vehicles. First, we spoke to the parking lot attendant, ignorant of the fact that she had already had a run-in with da’ bus. She referred us to the parking garage manager who said that we could walk up the hill, if and only if, we had permission from a security officer. That option was out. He informed us that we could tell our bus to turn around, but that this meant that we would have to cross over the dam, back to Arizona. This did not seem like an appealing option. Or the bus could come in the garage and pay $110 to “park” which really meant paying a ton of money to turn the bus around in the stinking garage.

Still in constant contact with our mother ship, we told them that a bit further down the road was a turn around spot for buses. The three of us continued to try to find a ride to no avail. We received a call that da’ bus had turned around and the rest of the beavers were coming to get us. In true Hollywood fashion, the white bus came rolling down the hill as we waited behind a fenced barrier. As soon as da’ bus came into close range, the three of us scaled the fence, ran across the street, dodging cars, and hopped into the bus. Rocky masterfully whipped the 13,000 pound beast of a bus around, crossing over the main road, onto the parking garage road, and then back out to the main road missing all obstacles or avoiding all of the curbs. It was incredible!

The beaver clan was reunited as no beavers are to be left behind. Imagine the bus scene in the movie The Graduate in the final scene where Dustin Hoffman and Katherine Ross hop on the city bus and sit there happily laughing together, well it was like that at first, but then we three stragglers were informed that we were to face some serious charges at the next kangaroo court for the most heinous of crimes.

Shortly after our dramatic afternoon adventure, we received a call that the Las Vegas team wanted to change our game time from Sunday afternoon, to that evening. We agreed that playing in the 100 degree 7pm weather would be better than 111 degrees the next day, even if we had been seating in the bus all day. We pressed on, fluid-less in the sweltering heat of the dry dessert.

We arrived at our hotel, the Paris, at 5:30pm. We have no further details to share because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

On an end note, Tiffany just received a phone call from her uncle Eddie who is here in Vegas for his kids’ soccer tournament. He informed Tiffany that the coach’s dad for the soccer team was late in his arrival to Vegas because of a “traffic jam” at the Hoover Dam. It was established that we were there at the same time and it was revealed that we were in da’ beaver bus. Uncle Eddie said, “Oh, yeah. My niece also got held up on the Hoover Dam as well.” The coach’s dad replied, “They weren’t stuck in the traffic jam, they WERE the cause of it!!”

Family, friends, fans, and foes of the beavers...just know that we are doing our best to gallivant across the country and leave our mark. Whether disrupting lunch at local eateries, or causing major traffic jams on state highways, people know The Satiated Beavers were here.

And that was Day 3 according to Chou.