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Sanctuary, Sort Of

    Sometimes our personal sanctuary can be found in the last place we’d expect.

Start: It had been a while since I’d ridden a city bus.

Seven weeks ago in my work life I contemplated using public transit for my daily commute. There’s a bunch or reasons, but really what it came down to was figuring out if the Clark County transit system is a viable option at all.

I live in Las Vegas, Nevada. Not the coolest place in the world. We actually get snow once in a blue moon, but it’s almost as rare as an honest politician. We’ve entered the serious heat of summer now (we hit about 112 degrees F. in June when I embraced this idea) and the real question was if I could tolerate the heat that must be endured in walking the couple of blocks to the relevant bus stop.

My wife thought I was an idiot for doing this: “But we’re in the middle of a heat wave!” I can’t say I blame her for feeling protective, but this is summer in Las Vegas — and exactly when, here, is it not a heat wave?

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