I was on my tour coach heading back to the glitz and garishness of Las Vegas. It was nearing the end of the day but a more awe inspiring day I had rarely seen. I had spent the day on the hauntingly picturesque South Rim of the Grand Canyon and I was doing my best to retain the serenity that had lodged itself inside me during the course of the day. The excitement and the vibrancy of the last 2 nights spent in Las Vegas were completely supplanted by a hermetic peace of mind, a mature wise ruler deposing the cranky passion driven prince.
As the sun started to approach the limits of its westward March, the endless desert spread on both sides as far as the eye could see. Brilliant colours fostered by the dying sun were splashed across the skies interrupted fleetingly by the outlines of the rare desert shrub and by hulking silhouettes of rocks in the Arizona drylands, backstage men hurrying to get out of the stage limelights. No one on the bus spoke a word. Nature it seemed had decided on setting up the grandest possible conclusion to our day of wonder.
Then the bus driver rifled through his stock of DVDs and put on "No Reservations" on the coach's TV. This quite ordinary movie about two master chefs (From the little that I can remember of the story) was blessed with an quite so extraordinary presence - the divine beauty of Catherine Zeta Jones. Her pouts, her smiles, her laughs, her perfectly curly dark hair, every syllable of her honey syrupy voice, every glimpse of her ivory skin, every frame devoted to her heavenly perfection - all of them were acknowledged without exception by this rapt admirer.
It wasn't the best of situations to be in. To have to pick between Nature's breath taking bounty inside and outside but my decision was made. Today I can only speculate that the sunset that evening may have been stunning too. It was already pitch dark outside by the time I had looked through the window again.