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My face and arms hurt from the bright, blistering sun.

I had walked at least a quarter of a mile in the 117-degree heat and was exhausted from dehydration and just plain walking from one casino to another.

As I walked toward Ramada Express at 4 p.m. on Aug. 20, I asked myself why anyone in her right mind would come to Laughlin, Nev., in the summertime. But then, sometimes I do some weird things.

The idea for this trip began at a July 19 luncheon with the Salsa Sisters of the Red Hat Society, when one of them suggested an Aug. 19-22 Laughlin trip as an activity. Any time someone says "Let's go, Katherine" - it could be anywhere in the world - I'm packing my bag, never forgetting to throw a breakfast burrito into my purse before I run out the door.

It was a long, tedious bus ride for six of us Salsa Sisters and about 30 others to the founded-on-fun Nevada gambling town, just over the Arizona border. The resort, situated in the midst of a desert, with the Colorado River running through, is lined with at least eight hotel-casinos, each offering entertainment in its own theaters.

You do not have to be a gambler to visit Laughlin. There are riverboat cruises, water skiing, first-run movies, tours to places outside of town, a car museum and a river museum. Fifty-eight stores are available for shopping sprees, and there are many fast-food places as well.

Upon our arrival at the Ramada Express, we applied for and received a playing card and tickets to the Folies Magnifique show in the Pavilion showroom of the hotel. Called "A Touch of Vegas," the show was a spinoff of the legendary Folies Bergere stage show in Paris, with dancing by topless showgirls - which was done in good taste. Featured also in the one-hour show were singing and comedy.

The next day, four of us toured the casinos, beginning with the one farthest from our hotel - Harrah's, at the top of the hill - and working our way to Colorado Belle's across the street and parking lot from the Ramada.

It was on that day I was burned to a deep, brown crisp while returning to the hotel. I just wanted to wash up and apply lotion to the burned areas, but once inside the door, I walked over to the five-cent slot machine. I plopped myself down on the only vacant stool, which was between two men. I ordered water and a Tom Collins from the waitress and began to play.

The man on my right, who looked rather distinguished with his curly white hair, white suit and big yellow tie, began talking to me. The 40-ish man on the left, also well dressed but minus a suit, was focusing on his game and didn't say much.

My conversation for the next 30 minutes with the older man dealt with many interesting subjects, but it was when he asked me my age that I became defensive and told him to tell me his age first.

"I'm 77," he answered, and he even told me the month, day and year he was born.

"That's my age, too," I finally responded, revealing my deep, dark secret to the stranger.

Then turning to me, the younger man whispered in my ear, "That's Gene Wilder. He played in `Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.' I'm his chauffeur. If you would like, I'll send you an autographed photo of him."

I handed him my business card, and the three of us parted and wished each other a happy journey. We waved until they disappeared from sight.

About that time, I won $60 from the machine I'd been playing. I collected the money and joined my friends for dinner.

On the way home, I was convinced that a vacation is for discovering the extraordinary aspects of life - aspects much like the incredible, magical visit with the Candy Man in the DVD I now own.