Reno...Hell no.

Reno, Nevada. The self proclaimed Biggest Little City in the World.
Its not small enough for me, and from what I can see of it as a city, it appears to be a case of “just let people do what they will” and it doesnt matter what they do as along as they don’t hold up a liquor store.
Arriving yesterday, after the sun went down but in that state of twilight and dusk that makes everything look clean, I had no idea where to go. I had ridden the bus for almost 18 hours to get here, forgoing Utah, and Nevada for the simple reason that I want to stay alive. I was tired and hungry and more than a little sore from sitting.
I left the bus depot, looking for a safe place to sleep. After quite a search, and after watching about a hundred different teenagers walking and running around through a nice park with ivy covered tennis courts, I decided to make a go of a few hours sleep in the park. I saw a mens restroom that was open. I went in and there was a body, alive but sleeping, on the floor. I left. I walked around to one of the tennis courts, and almost tripped over another body, alive but sleeping. I left and found another tennis court section that was empty. I set up my sleeping bag and managed to get a decent nights sleep, despite a number of people walking past me in the night. You learn to sleep lightly when out on the road, and any little sound will rouse you but you learn to go back to sleep fairly quickly.
Prior to the park, I had ventured out onto “the strip”, as it is known. Exactly what I expected to find: teenaged hookers, drugged out dudes doing kung fu moves to their own reflections in windows, groups of young people, all amid the bright lights of faded casinos and old sleazy motels and flashing lights from police cars and ambulances, with their attendant noises. Not a pretty picture in general but for a tired guy pushing a converted baby stroller loaded with his “stuff” and looking for a safe place to park it for the night, this sure was a far cry from Kansas, baby. A far cry.
One lighter note though: I walked a black gentleman, skinny from years on the streets. He commented something to me as I passed. I didn’t hear any threat in his tone and so asked him to repeat what he said.
He nodded at my cart, and said, “I said, ‘Unless you invented that rig yourself, it must be military grade.’” I laughed, and replied, “No, its actually well constructed baby stroller grade.” We both laughed and I kept walking. I passed the shopping cart, grocery store grade, that he was using.
Seriously, Reno has no appeal to me at all. After months and months of walking through small town America and meeting small town and very real Americans, places like this hold about as much appeal to me as a sore tooth. Maybe a sore tooth is a better option, now that I think about it.