How it All Started

Girls' weekend in Vegas.  Does what happen in Vegas always stay in Vegas?  Not this time. It started on a typical, oppressively hot Nevada afternoon. I was visiting two of my friends living outside the city and we were languishing at mid-day, just trying to stay cool.  Honestly, not much was happening, when off in the distance, the three of us hear a faint tinkling of bells.  We sit up, but it trails off.  Could it be the ice cream truck?  We slump back.  Then, all of a sudden, the tinkling bells are back, we sit up again and wait!  Almost holding our breath, the tinkling grows louder and louder!  Could it be the ice cream man?!  Louder and louder the tune plays, calling me by name!  We all stand up, bolt downstairs, rush to the door, open it and nothing is outside!  Not a total surprise, but no children appearing eagerly, no truck immediately present.  I hop down to the sidewalk and at the far end of the street, is an ice cream truck, driving ever so slowly.  Immediately, I start running (no, not jogging) down the sidewalk, money in hand, waving my arms like a stranded castaway who is trying to stop a search and rescue vessel, calling to the square truck, "Ice Cream! Ice Cream! Wait for me!"  Ah! The frozen candy bar/ice cream combos and 50/50 bars that awaited this rescued runner and friends did and still make our mouths water! The ice cream dances we did!  Later, the ice cream man turned on our street, with a child or two making purchases, but weren't we his inspiration?