West Street Plaza
Hey Norm,
How are you? Reno is an interesting place, that’s for sure. But it’s run all wrong. Staying in the Truckee River Lodge, I’m totally within walking distance to all these coffee shops and art galleries and bums. I’m serious, can’t they clean it up or something? When I’m buying my triple nonfat white chocolate no whip almond mocha and strolling down to look at a painting—they said Reno is all about casinos, but now I know that’s not true—half the time I have to walk past a dirty woman with long hair and a shopping cart filled with old newspapers. I guess she’s recycling them or something. Or maybe she uses them as bedding. The other day she started talking to me, telling me about this invention she has, this new way to pan for gold with your mouth or something. Then she takes out this pan and this tube-y straw thing and shows me how. Then she tells me all about her son, and how he’s rich but he ignores her, and how she loves him anyway. Then she told me to be blessed by God. But she smells. Serious, she smells pretty bad. And, even though it was 1 p.m., broad daylight, she might have done something, like mug me. Or worse. At the very least, it’s unattractive. The city should do something about this, instead of pumping all its money into gaming and shit.