This is one of those photographs that tourists in the States can’t help but take, a glut of colours and brash cultural references that flatter the observer’s eye while confirming distance, as though we lived in some other universe. The reason I took it though, honestly, is that I was intrigued by the yellow sign at the centre: the one labelled Canyon portraying a champagne glass with a stem like Japanese love beads. What caught my eye wasn’t so much the glass as the writing beneath. PACKAGE GOODS and DANCING. Does the place double as a freighting agency of some kind? Or is the link more organic? I’m thinking white slave trade here; I’m imagining innocent jivers suddenly encased in bubble wrap and destined to foreign parts. The Turquoise Tepee may be involved. I’m anxious. Can anyone help?
CHARLES LAMBERT 
I am reliving so many moments through your postings of these wonderful photographs. This one, and especially your caption, had me laughing until I nearly peed my pants. Is that too much information here?! Love and miss you both. XO
I’ve made people splurt wine (and sloe gin, hi Kay!) over their keyboards in the past, but this may be a first for involuntary peeing. You’ve done me proud!We miss you too!
“Package goods” must be a coy reference to drink – as in “package store” which is what off-licenses are called over there… I can remember asking my mother this when a young thing: “Mummy, why are they called PACKAGE Stores? Do people go to pick up their PACKAGES there?” and she gave me the explanation about the old Prohibition days, and how even if you’re only carrying a bottle of beer around in the US it has to be in a bag – it has to be a “package” – so no one can see what it is… hence the tramps on street corners with their brown-bagged beer…Another good reasdon for living in the UK, sez I! In a related verin, I recently went to send a Facebook present (I know…) to a friend on her 20th birthday – a student at Oxford University. Knowing her fondness for the pub, I chose to send her a virtual picture of a glass of beer. After a few abortive tries to send this gift, I finally scrolled down the page in my impatience, whereupon I see the message: “The recipient is not old enough to receive this gift.”Your picture’s fab.
Vein, that is. And “Mommy” – and please excuse any other typos, errors etc. [head in hands]
You didn’t go in? For shame!
Ms B. Thank you for clearing this up. And if you’d like to send me a virtual drink, or indeed, a virtual anything, I’m old enough – and wise enough – to receive it…