Back to Boston with Burn #2 in the Books

Introduction:

Last year I decided to push myself way outside my comfort zone by crossing the country to spend a crazy week out in the desert at Burning Man alone.  Feel free to read about my first adventure here.  I planned to rely completely on myself, and only with the supplies I brought in with me.  But as It turns out you're never truly alone out on that colorful wasteland.  I made a number of friends, and I can't tell you how good it felt knowing I'd be seeing some familiar faces again in such a harsh environment.  In addition an old friend from my hometown of Waltham was able to grab a ticket, and take this journey with me as his first Burn.  This amount of existing support along with: some new faces, friends of friends, and local wandering neighbors around our camp made this a tremendous shared experience even more so than I enjoyed the first time.  

Welcome home.

Walmart is Still Your First Test of Survival:

My mistake last year was that I puttered around the store in Reno for far too long, and overestimated the amount of crap I really needed to bring with me.  This year rather than aimlessly wandering the aisles for supplies while the checkout lines increased exponentially I dumped just enough: water, canned goods, and cheap beer in my cart to meet up with my hometown friend, and get the hell out in record time.  Because as the evening wears on the number of bodies in the Walmart hoard increases like zombies.  Only instead of brains or human flesh they consume beef jerky and baby wipes.  All said and done we had plenty of time to grab dinner then head out towards Black Rock City at around 10PM Saturday night.

Do All Your Coordinating as Best You Can Ahead of Time Because Your Cell Phone is Now an Expensive Paper Weight:

Basically all means of communication outside of smoke signals, and road flares becomes spoty once you hit the playa.  For example each morning a handful of text messages would eek through to my phone although I have no idea when they were originally sent to me.

My friend and I got separated on the road to Black Rock City because I hate driving, and clearly leveraging public transportation mostly for the past 2 years has made me rusty.  Our camp isn't placed which means we have to claim a space in the first come first serve open camping area.  I gave my friend a general range of addresses that we were shooting for so if we got separated we'd have a chance of reuniting.  That said I knew there were no guarantees that we'd be able to claim said space in that range, and I worried since Burning Man had reduced the amount of open camping spots this year.

I made it through the gate in pitch darkness at 3AM.  I attempted to read the street signs using a flashlight, and still manage to get turned around a few times.  At this point I'm exhausted so I decide to just park the car, crawl into the back seat, and take a nap until sunrise.

Once daybreak arrived I broke out the map to try and refamiliarize myself with the city's clock-like layout.  Eventually I found our camp already well on it's way to being built up thanks to a very determined campmate.  Not too long into the morning I noticed my hometown buddy just a few blocks down so I called him over.  Happy to have us all in one spot, and with stake in the ground in terms of space we began to setup shop in earnest in order to  make ourselves at home for the duration.

Map courtesy of burningman.org

Oh hai!  Here we are.

Our Kickass Camp:

Last year just by virtue of proximity, and luck a handful of like-minded individuals (some completely new to Burning Man like myself, and some battle hardened veterans) banded together to share: company, shade, and resources.  This year our camp nearly doubled in size, and we are potentially on our way to becoming more of a formally placed camp (which could very well give us a predetermined reserved spot in the future).  This is all thanks to the monumental efforts of my friend/cohort Gravity.  We had: shade, couches, lights, music, food, beverages, and much love for each other.  I can't wait to see where we go with this in future years.

Because we're all a pretty relaxed group of people we were all free to come/go as we pleased.  Whether for a solo adventure out on the playa, or a group outing.  I hope as we continue to grow we're able to maintain that free spirit where everyone genuinely wants to pitch in, and help out in order to have a good time.  My resources are a bit limited traversing from the opposite coast, but personally in the future I hope to invest in new ways to contribute back to the camp.

 This is Mjölnir. Or you can just call him Meow Meow.  This was is first appearance, and I'm sure he's going to evolve over the years.  I mean just look at our camp's main mascot:

This guy has seen some shit out in the desert on a horse with no name.  It feels good to be out of the rain.

In the desert you can remember your name.  You know the rest.

Thunderdome Only Appears When You Need it the Most:

Geodesic domes are incredibly robust structures that hold up to the wind and weather well thus making them a popular construct for camps to build around.  My own tent relies on a similar configuration as means to laugh in the face of sandstorms.  But out on the playa there are dozens of these domes making it look like someone sliced up, and evenly distributed that giant golf ball looking testicle at the center of Epcot all over the place.  Regardless there's only one dome I truly care about: Thunderdome.

Put on your best metal coil Tina Turner ear rings, and strap yourself into your elastic suspenders because you're in for a show.  That is if you can find the damn thing.   You would think that a giant jungle gym sent from hell would stand out more.  But in the evening I don't think they always have the sign illuminated until around showtime so it can fade into the inky darkness of the playa unless you really know where to look for it.

This is what I'm talking about

I lost track of it one night, and got separated from my group.  I was hanging out at another camp when I heard someone behind me say "Yeah so eventually we found Thunderdome."  I immediately turned around, and asked where.  They pointed to a dot of light in the far distance, and I was off on my bike like a bat out of hell.  I made it just in time to witness the opening ceremonies that included the aria from the movie The 5th Element "Lucia di Lammermoor" as performed by Diva Marisa.  It was glorious to behold live.  Please do yourself a favor and a listen to a version of it here captured back in 2010.  That said the beauty of the aria was in sharp juxtaposition to the violence I was about to witness.

I want you to know that this sport is no joke.  As with everything here when you enter Burning Man the back of the ticket explicitly spells out for you exactly what you are choosing to get into.  For example:

I KNOWINGLY AND VOLUNTARILY ASSUME ALL RISK OF PROPERTY LOSS, PERSONAL INJURY, SERIOUS INJURY, OR DEATH, WHICH MAY OCCUR BY ATTENDING THE 20XX BURNING MAN EVENT, AND HEREBY FOREVER RELEASE, DISCHARGE, AND HOLD BMP HARMLESS FROM ANY CLAIM ARISING FROM SUCH RISK, EVEN IF ARISING FROM THE NEGLIGENCE OF BMP, OR FROM THIRD PARTIES, AND I ASSUME FULL RESPONSIBILITY AND LIABILITY FOR MY PARTICIPATION.

One of Burning Man's most popular unofficial tenants is "Safety Third."  You're basically engulfed in a giant non-OSHA compliant adult version of Disney World set in a hellhole where all the rides are actively trying to murder you (even 'It's a Small World'... Fuck especially 'It's a Small World').  But no one is forcing you to: climb that ridiculous art structure, spend a week out in a miserable environment that can possibly do you great harm, or in this case pick up a foam padded bat to use against your opponent.  This is your adventure.  Your choices.  Your call.

The context of this sticker is that it was posted in a porta potty.  Just think about that.

I wasn't able to capture the sound, but this interactive art piece played a different note/tone every time you pressed on a cushion. But this tower is at least 30 feet tall, and yes here are some crazy spider monkies at the top of this thing at 2AM in the morning.

This year at Thunderdome I witnessed: numerous bats splinter then crack in two, one man who got his bell rung so hard he had to be disqualified because he crumpled like a discarded marionette with it's strings cut, and one woman who up until a certain point thought she was just having a carefree pillow fight with a friend when suddenly during a break in the action her hands reached her face, and I clearly saw her mouth the words "You broke my nose".  Yeah after that... it was pretty much on, and she went into full berserker mode.  

I want to note that despite the unbridled violence the safety of all is absolutely paramount.  EMTs, and law enforcement are present within the dome at all times.  Not to mention Death Guild the Mad Max inspired encampment that runs the dome has been doing this for years.   They do a tremendous job at facilitating the action with both the viewers, and the participants care in mind.  That said why idiots think they can climb above the above pictured yellow safety tape that is there for their protection is absolutely beyond me.  It poses a major safety risk for everyone, and is usually cause for a stop in the action.

I naturally have a bad sense of direction, and I thought maybe I was crazy for missing such a large ridiculously involved structure.  But there I was at a nightclub Thursday night when someone randomly came up to me and asked: "Hey do you know where Thunderdome is?"  With a familiar smirk I gave them the address, and pointed them in the right direction.

Hell if I find myself in better shape next time I might even participate.

Deep Dark Playa Doesn't Care About Your Best Laid Plans:

Here's what happens more often then not at night.  Your group goes out with a goal in mind to see/participate in something.  You light both yourself, and your bike up like a Christmas tree so you don't mistakenly collide with anyone.  Then you pray that you don't get lost/separated from the pack as you journey into the abyss that is deep playa at night.

Guys! Guys!  We're going to take a right at the glowy thing!  Everyone got it?

Unless something is on the inner most street on the clock (called the Esplanade) I'm not sure if anything in deep playa really has a formal address.  Which means whatever piece of art/thing you're trying to see boils down to: "Take a left at the thing that looks like a giant glowing elephant" (which let's face it may, or may not actually be a mirage at this point).

Oh boy. Here's a shot of it during the daytime...  Totally glad I didn't just hallucinate this.

Also don't be a "Darkwad" (new word I learned this year).  This is a person who got trapped out in deep playa as the sun set before they could illuminate themselves, or a person who didn't get the memo about how dark it is out there.  When riding your bike at night your entire life exists 5 feet in front of you.  No one wants to spend it dodging, and nearly running over unlit pedestrians.

Finally when you park your bike make sure it's near a permanent art installation you can use as a landmark as well as locked at all times.  Don't be fooled by elaborate art cars that can actually move, and take off fifteen minutes after you park your bike leaving your main mode of transportation alone in the middle of nowhere.  This is why jerks steal bikes.  Because it's easier to just take yours than finding the one they were pretty sure they parked next to the thing that looked like a giant electric sheep.

Not even shitting you about the whole "giant electric sheep" thing...  This is some real serious Blade Runner type shit right here.

The Playa Wants You to Know That Even in a Makeshift City of ~80K People Serendipity Happens:

I've been making my best effort to attend as many Boston Burner meetings as possible.  I might not be a grizzled veteran of Burning Man.  But I really enjoy sharing my early experiences so that others can glean from it what they may.  If I've made one new person even just slightly more prepared then I've accomplished my goal.

I said goodbye to a new friend as he told me he was heading out to San Francisco a week ahead of the event.  I said maybe I'd see him out there on the playa.  It was to my surprise to find out that he was literally camping directly across the street from us at a bike repair/rental camp.  In a temporary city of thousands and thousands of people that's just an incredible coincidence.

I'm standing in a line waiting for a slice of homemade pizza when I hear someone with a distinct accent directly behind me in line.  "Wait I know you!" we exclaimed to each other.  If I recall he had snagged a ticket a few weeks leading up to the event, and we had previously talked at several meetings for a long time about what to expect.

Finally during the actual Man burn I got separated from my group because I had forgotten my phone in my backpack by my bike.  During my search to reunite with the pack I bumped into a woman I previously met who I distinctly remember was attending Burning Man almost out of spite.  An ex-boyfriend told her that there was no way she'd be able to survive out here.  But not only was she surviving, but was absolutely thriving, and having a blast.  I was so glad to see she was enjoying herself.

The 747:

I visited this last year, and couldn't wait to see it again.  Some group of very determined individuals dragged the carcass of a 747 out to the desert, and turned it into nightclub/lounge.

 View from the open area atop the cockpit.

I Visited a Literal Million Dollar Camp:

It's hard to see but that's a massive tent with a suspended aerial performer on a ring at the center. 

First there's camping.  Then there's "glamping".  Then there's "Fuck it let's build an entire amphitheater with a tent city full of performers, massive generators, fully functional kitchen, bathrooms complete with showers, and 2 giant mutant vehicles to drive around in."  Just the scale of this thing being built out in the middle of nowhere was mind boggling.

The Temple is Still Too Much for Me to Handle:

The most solemn place in Black Rock City is always the temple.  A nondenominational structure where people go to grieve or meditate on the fact that they are still among living.  Now I'm someone who considers themselves ripe with empathy.  I often absorb other people's emotions like a sponge.  That said I know that I should feel deeply for those who: attach pictures of lost loved ones to the walls, erect shrines to fallen friends/significant others, and write heartfelt messages on the support beams, and not that it doesn't strike me, but it's the pets...  

The pets.

The pictures of the pets that make me lose it every single time.  Their lives are so much shorter than ours, burn so much brighter, and bring so much joy to others as loyal companions.  

Someone handed me a sharpie pen, and I was so overwhelmed I didn't know what kind of message to write.  I can't even remember what I decided on completely.  But it was something about trying.  Trying.  Trying to be better each day.  Then I turned around, and walked back to my bike as the playa dust began to stick to my wet face...

I Now Own a Bike on the West Coast Which Is One Less Thing I Need to Worry About Next Time:

This bike is worth about $100, or something like 3 bags of beef jerky, and a case of cheap beer.

You're going to need a bike to get around.  That's a given.  And if you don't ship/buy one ahead of time depending upon where you're traveling from there are a number of camps that focus just on repairing/renting bikes.  Although you need to be mindful of reserving it ahead of time because money means nothing as soon as you enter the gate (outside of ice and coffee).

The bike rental camp I've used in the past has been phenomenal, but they'd prefer you return your bike before the Temple burns on Sunday.  By design the Temple is one of the farther most structures out on the playa, and despite being a distance runner it really sucks to try and hoof it out there in the dark.

My hometown comrade was awesome enough to offer to put a bike in storage for me in California for whenever I needed it next time.  But where to buy a bike?

You should know that Burning Man has a gift based economy which is different from a barter system.  You freely offer up items to other individuals with out expecting anything return.  It could be as simple as: a sticker, a beer, a lollipop, a grilled cheese sandwich, some excellent smoked brisket, the list goes on and on.  But lets face it if both parties have an overabundance of something the other needs why not make a meaningful exchange?

I heard a local bike shop was in wanting of some supplies so I sauntered over there with: 2 gallons of water, a bunch of canned goods I didn't want to take back on the flight with me, and a case of PBR to sweeten the deal.  I dropped the items off and said: "I need to permanently borrow a bike."

"The Playa Will Provide." Continues to be a Successful Concept That I No Longer Doubt:

A year ago when I kept hearing the phrase "The playa will provide." my immediate reaction was that it was a load of hippie bullshit.  The general concept is that no matter how stuck you get whether you are: direly thirsty, extremely hungry, or something crucial to your survival has broken down, the shear will of the overall community would materialize your need into existence.  I am here firsthand to tell you that it is in fact not bullshit, and I can't tell you how many times a solution to a problem came out of thin air.

I think it's the little things that add up making the most impact over time.  It was the middle of the night, and I was meeting some friends later, but I was absolutely exhausted after a long bike ride.  Randomly there in the dark was a large family of Middle Eastern decent handing out fresh homemade falafel, and berry lemonade on the street corner.  I swear to you it was the best falafel I've ever had...  This was probably somebody's Great Great Great Grandmother's recipe that has never, and shalt not ever be put to paper.  Only to be handed down by word to her descendants.  Gloriously tasty, and newly energized by the meal I sped off on my way.

This is what I hope to be a part of more in the future.  I want to have enough resources on hand to be that random stranger that's says: "Hey I got you."

Other Musings:

I'm at a craft beer bar with a dirty old western saloon motif just taking in the scene when a tall strikingly attractive mature woman grabs my necklace, pushes the end of it towards my face, and says: "I know what this is."  A bit taken aback I pause, smile, and say: "I'm surprised you recognize it.  It looks like a regular piece of jewelry.  Usually I have to explain to people what it is if they ask the significance of it."  "I'm a Gynecologist.  I can tell you about jewelry that look similar, but works even better." She says.  "Did we just become best friends?" I reply.

Yes.  Technically it's a stainless steel necklace on a rose gold chain, but the power button is on the back.  If you haven't figured it out by now I'm not telling.  It's more than just a great conversation piece.

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The Lamplighters have a specific duty at Burning Man.  There are no street lights, and while all of the art as well as your fellow bike riders glow brightly at night it's often not enough to tame the darkness.  As I've mentioned before it can be very easy to find yourself lost, and get separated from your camp/party in the pitch blackness of the playa.  The Lamplighters are a volunteer force of people that ritualistically illuminate major pathways to and from The Man using nearly 1,000 kerosene lamps that are hung high on designated lampposts.  I found their camp this year which included a huge enclosed bar.  There the bartender/hostess was blaring the Dropkick Murphys over the sound system.

Now I don't care if you've ever watched Martin Scorsese's The Departed, but if you're from the Boston area you realize that pretty much every Dropkick Murphys song is basically like a personal national anthem of ours.  So hearing them 2000+ miles away from home was both refreshing, and reinvigorating.  I told the bartender that I was from Boston, and that I loved this.  So she immediately jumped over the bar to give me a hug, a fresh drink, and a Lamplighter patch.

Illumination.  Navigation.  Celebration.  --Lamplighters

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I pulled into a bar that had an outdoor stage with fire dancers performing using flaming hula-hoops.  They had a very post apocalyptic junkyard theme going on.  A greeter comes over to me and says: "OK now that you're here welcome... Drop your pants."  "Huh?" I say before I shit you not for some reason I agreed to get shocked in the ass with a cattle-prod.  That'll wake you up after a long tiring bike ride for sure.

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My friend and I are visiting a Lithuanian camp in the evening.  I'm told the background chatter is a mix of Eastern European languages, and Russian.  He and I are seated between a rather attractive Lithuanian woman in sparkly boots, and a man who looked like he could be Dolph Lundgren/Ivan Drago from Rocky IV's older brother.

The man produces an unlabeled bottle filled with a clear liquid by slamming it on the table, and begins to extol the virtues of Lithuanian Moonshine.  How it's distilled from a local grain, and explains how this magical fluid can cure anything that ails you.  Many of the bottles at the camp needed to be imported with care in order to comply with customs.

"Who go first?" He gruffly asks.  Peering to myself and my campmate.

"I'll go."  I state.  Because I've seen this movie before.

You see this is the scene where the soft American who only drinks light beer, and wine spritzers encounters "real" alcohol from a foreign country for the first time.  I'm supposed to hold this liquid fire under my nose, sniff, cringe, and down it in one nasty gulp resulting in a mass of sputtering, coughing, and general gagging as I fight to catch my breath.  Much hilarity from my new Lithuanian friends would ensue... But I've been drinking absinthe since before it was even legal in this country, and I brought my big boy pants out to the desert with me.

So I lifted the glass.  Butchered whatever the Lithuanian equivalent of "cheers" is that they tried to teach me, and knocked back that shot of Baltic diesel fuel with out indecent calmly placing the glass back on the table.  The woman to my left was visibly shocked, and the man's eyes flew wide open.

Now I'm not saying that I was totally unaffected.  Not only did it feel like I swallowed a flaming freight train that went barreling down my throat, but I could feel the warmth of it slowly spreading laterally across each and every fucking rib.  The caustic beverage melted them in turn one by one like I had just ingested battery acid hollowing me out to my very central core.  

But I'd be ABSOLUTELY DAMNED... if I was going to let anyone else in the room know that.

"Smile though your heart is aching.  Smile though it's breaking..."

As for my companion's at bat at the plate after he took the shot after much trepidation?  Please regard the earlier paragraph about the sputtering, coughing, and gagging.  They kinda won that round.  Sorry man.  Many laughs were had.

Į sveikatą! - Pronounced: "Ee sweh-kata" meaning: "To your health!", or "Good luck with that shit!"

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I was dancing in a night club that was having an 80's theme night when I accidentally bumped into a rather attractive dark-complexioned woman.  I quickly apologized expecting her to move on, and keep on dancing when she immediately struck a power pose, and sang the lyrics to the current cheesy 80's song directly in my face.  I shrugged, and did the same while power strumming my air guitar (I didn't take all those air guitar lessons in High School for nothing).  We ended up dancing together for a number of songs her mimicking, or playing off some of my dance moves.  Then at one point she whispers in my ear: "I want to dive through your legs."  So what's a man supposed to do?  He hikes up the cat onsie he's wearing to give her a broader archway, and at the most pinnacle point of the 80's tune (can't remember which one to be honest) she does a quick sprint then dives/slides between my legs.  She got up, and stuck the landing, but not before almost launching herself out the door out of the club, and into the dusty playa.  The only thing that would have been cooler is if I pulled off the lift from Dirty Dancing.  But lets face it no matter who you're attempting to put in the corner that would have given me a hernia.

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Me at 1:30AM: Well it's been a really long day. Think I'm just going to hit the tent, and get some rest.

Totally Intimidating Brazilian Woman I Just Met: No I think you're going out to deep playa with us right now.

Also Me at 1:30AM: OK. Well guess I'm going out to deep playa with you guys right now.

Sometimes I just need an extra kick in the ass to make sure I make the most of every moment and don't miss out on a good time. For every friend that has nudged me to do this I am grateful.  Thank you.

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Rental car lady:  Did you take this vehicle off road?

Me still completely covered in desert filth, but not wanting to pay the extra car detailing fee: Ummmmmmmm.......

So I really really tried to keep my rental car clean this year.  In fact the playa dust wasn't nearly as bad at invading every crevice of both my tent, and my vehicle as last year.  But despite that, and a decent car wash they damn well knew where I had taken this thing so they got me.  Next time I'm not even going to bother to wash it.  You want to charge me $200+ to clean this thing?  I'm getting my money's worth by rolling it in completely covered in desert detritus, and on a minimum of two wheels if you're lucky.

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Out on the playa I am Kathmandu (Cat-Man-Do if you will), and this year in terms of giving out gifts I tried to distribute small cat figurines to people, and camps that made an impact on me.  Oddly enough they fit really well on the rim of a glass making them excellent drink markers.

Still got a whole bunch of these guys for the next time I venture out.

Church of the Ceiling Cat:

Church of the Ceiling Cat was a new first time camp that I contributed to because I liked their all inclusive, and cat themed message.  In return they added a picture of my cats to their banner as seen here.  I visited them, and was even able to witness a marriage ceremony.  Much meowing, tea, and celebration ensued.

It doesn't matter if you're in the desert. Cats will find a way.

Dive Bar:

I was so glad to find them again this year by complete chance.  The concept behind Dive Bar is simple...  The entire shade structure for their camp is shaped like a giant submarine.  Also they essentially pretend to be Soviet Russians sent back from the future in 2028, and are poorly attempting to fit into American society by using terrible accents, and even worse puns.  I'm not Putin you on it's awful, and I love these guys.  My only regret is I wish I had thought of bringing one of our campmates who was actually fresh off the boat from Russia to here so she could really mess up their shit.

Distrikt:

Me:  Hey look Burning Man isn't just a big crazy dance party out in the desert.  That's a common misconception.

Also Me:  Look I can explain...

Distrikt is essentially a "dayclub" not to be confused with a nightclub because their house music ends before the sun sets.  They also serve up some surprisingly good pizza made entirely from scratch.

Big Bike:

I mentioned before that my camp sat directly across from a bike workshop/rental camp.  At some point they welded together an absolute beast of a bike that became a challenge for many a passer by to attempt to tame.  I can't tell you how many people I saw eat sand trying to mount this thing.  My campmate Gravity though?  Tamed that animal on the first try.

No breaks.  No cares.

Gallery:

Last year I wanted to document everything, and absorb each interaction like a sponge.  This year I admit I didn't take as many pictures because I was more focused on being in the moment.  That said many of my campmates also took pictures.  So I was able to round out many of the moments we shared.  Here is a taste of that.  Thank you to all my campmates that contributed.

A surprising amount of art is like this.  It basically tempts you by saying "Go ahead and try to climb me you glorious bastard.  Hope you have good health insurance."

This was an interesting very dark piece of art with a purpose.  It's difficult to see in the picture, but below each major cause of death listed there is a continually updated illuminated statistic.  In other words since you showed up here this is how many people have died of [X] (where X is: fire, gun violence, terrorism, heart disease, Alzheimers, vehicle accidents, etc).  On the side was a booklet where you could sign in, and provided information for support groups.

Yes those are Medieval looking chainmail shoes.  My feet got eaten up pretty badly last year so in addition to a cleaning and moisturizing regimen I wasn't messing around this time. 

This was a huge circus style aerial performance that happened at the base of The Man.

I didn't try it myself, but I heard the more you attempted to touch/interact with this glowing unicorn the more combative it got.  Even going so far as to release noxious fumes.

This among stranger things is a grounded helicopter art car.  The owner was very friendly and offered me a ride around in it. 

Apparently this was a great place to watch the sun rise given the tower's height.  I wouldn't know because I'm not a morning person...  But hey I'm up for anything involving a slide.

This thing.

Oh wow...

I have absolutely no idea how you build something as massive, and elaborate as this windmill structure out here.

Me just soaking up that sunset.

Woooooooooooooooo!

I don't even know what I'm looking at anymore.

This giant Pegasus statue would only move if eight different individuals worked together to press a button at the same time. 

Go home statue.  You're drunk.

Witnessing a giant flaming metal octopus is pure nightmare fuel, but still a sight to behold.

BTW there's a whole freaking airport out here.

It's not called "Burning" Man for nothing.  There's always some sort of pyrotechnics.

If Thunderdome was a little too extreme for you this camp had a gladiator challenge set in the same vein of American Gladiators blended with Most Extreme Elimination Challenge (MXC).  The announcers were hilarious.

Who's a good kitty car?  You are.  That's who....

Hero shot.  This is what we all came to see here.

Mister creepy head can stay well the fuck off in the distance where it belongs...

Yes that's a giant dragon off in the sunset.  No I wasn't on drugs.  Stop asking.

I feel emotionally attached to this camp for some reason...

So this hydraulically elevated sleigh is a boat full of Nope.

This is my best "contemplating the universe" pose.

Keep Your Exodus Plans Flexible Because You Never Know What the Hell is Going to Happen:

Getting in and out of Burning Man is actually part of the adventure.  You don't know if it's going to take half an hour, or 6+ hours just to reach the road, or the entrance gate.  It's one of the reasons I don't schedule my flight on Monday when I leave.  Last year I: left before noon, had plenty of time to get rid of my trash, grabbed a Native American taco at the side of the road, made it back to Reno in record time, and set myself up with an affordable hotel room to enjoy a most heavenly shower.  

Oh boy.  Not so much this round.

Yup.  We're fucked...

First there was no way I was leaving camp until every last piece of shared equipment was struck, and packed.  My friends put such an amazing amount of effort into erecting a place where we could all feel safe hanging out that me, and my hometown buddy made sure we got everything squared away before the ride home.  With all things packed in the trailer we all headed out at around 3PM.  

It took nearly 6 hours for all of us to get out of the gate, and onto the road.

With just under a half tank of gas, and a prayer I knew from last year I needed more fuel to make it back to civilization.  Problem is you only have maybe 2 or 3 places to refuel in the town of Gerlach before you hit Highway 447 which is 75 miles of pitch black nothingness at night.  It runs right through Native American reservation land. So no turn offs.  No exits.  No gas stations.  No landmarks.  No kitschy road side attractions.  Run out of gas along this stretch, and you are truly well completely fucked.  

Gerlach is a small rural town which sits on the outskirts of what becomes Black Rock City once a year.  Gas stations here consist of at best 2 pumps because outside of when Burning Man takes place there's not exactly a whole lot of traffic.  At this point it's somewhere around 10PM when I get in line.  So I'm sitting my gimpy environmentally conscious rental sedan watching people in tour buses, and massive RV's take out a second mortgage on their house to refill their tank.  Also turns out a gas tank you could swim laps in takes A WHILE to fill.

I finally hit the road again a little over an hour later to find traffic is basically at a standstill.  It's at this point emergency vehicles zoom by me in the opposite lane. I would later found out that there was an accident.  This is frighteningly common.  447 is a two lane highway.  Dumb people who want to get back to Reno or San Francisco 10 seconds faster will attempt to use the opposite lane to pass multiple vehicles, or roll the dice in hope that another car isn't coming the opposite direction for a while.  

Please don't do this.

At any rate around 1:00AM amazingly I find a local waste disposal facility still open to discard my trash.  Then at 2:30AM I eventually roll into the bosom of America... which is to say a Walmart parking lot.  And rather than attempting to find a hotel with an awake receptionist I decide to do the most 'Murica thing possible, and fall asleep in my car for the remainder of the night.

From the Land of Decommoditization to the Deep Lair of Capitalism:

For being mostly known as a massive soulless corporate entity Walmart has always had a very liberal loitering policy.  There are people who literally live out of their cars in Walmart's parking lots.  So much so that it's become a problem in certain parts of California that have high concentrations of homeless populations.  That said being able to: get off the road, and have a safe, clean, constantly monitored place to sleep was much appreciated.  So I have to begrudgingly hand it to them for that unexpected much appreciated night's rest.  My hometown compatriot also found the same refuge here before we finally parted ways in the morning.

What's Next?

In addition to cooking out there more in general I want to bring pizza to the playa no mater what.  I come from a large Italian family.  So I've prepared every type of pizza you could possibly imagine, and then some.  So much so that my blood type is actually type P for Pepperoni.  I witnessed a camp (Distrikt) that had built out a beautiful raw dough to fully cooked cheese pizza assembly line serving dozens of people with the help of numerous volunteers.  I feel it in my bones that I could crank out pizzas at a modest speed with limited assistance.  I've already started researching the types of camping stoves that could achieve this goal.

I need allow myself to rely on my friends in the west, and our camp overall when offered assistance with supplies.  The logistics of me crossing the country, and bringing what I need to survive are a lot more complicated than being able to freely load up an RV, or a van with larger/heavier comfort items.  As it stands right now I have to split my equipment, food, toiletries, and costumes evenly between my 2 massive duffel bags in order to make sure neither of them exceeds 50 lbs, and are flight ready.  I've already accepted my friend's generosity in storing a bike on the west coast which is one less thing for me to worry about when I get out there.  In the future I'll try to coordinate/ship other items with the help of friends far more local than me so that I can be in a better position to contribute back to the camp.

I might have to upgrade my tent.  Don't get me wrong I love my tent.  It's basically sandstorm proof, and gale force wind proof.  But it's just barely a 2 person tent, and in the desert heat it turns into a sauna before 9AM.  If it looks like I'm going to make this a regular thing each year (which it does) I might invest in a Shiftpod which is more geared towards desert camping specifically, and it's a tent I can actually stand up in.  If not I may invest in a bigger rental car because I can't tell you how much of a pain it is to try to find something specific between two large duffel bags in a tiny budget sedan.

Next time I'm running.  Months leading up to the event I had every intention of participating in an annual 50K that's held out on the playa starting Tuesday at 5AM.  A week or so before leaving I ended up with a bad case of Plantar Fasciitis causing sharp pain in my left foot.  Now I've run through pain/injury before.  I once completed a 20 mile race with a broken big toe... because well... it turns out there's not much you can do for a broken big toe.  But now: 1. I'm technically on vacation, and I have nothing to prove to anyone.  Then 2. I didn't want to potentially injure myself more than 200-ish miles away from the closest hospital.  I was already hobbled a bit walking/biking around, and didn't want to make things worse for the duration of my stay in the desert.  Next time I'll likely also kick in for the special Burning Man insurance.  Because $50 dollars upfront beats a $30K medflight evacuation for any sort of health issue to Reno any day.

Conclusion:

I haven't made a collage since 5th grade art class, but here I am gluing, and sticking adult memories onto a canvas...

I was told that each Burn is one of a kind, and different.  So I should adjust my expectations accordingly.  
I soon came to realize that each turn out in the desert is a story filled with thousands of unique individual characters.  Loud. Colorful.  Exotic.  Everywhere you look it makes you appreciate just how many weird beautiful humans there are in the world.  First time Burners.  Battle hardened veterans.  Movers and shakers from Silicon Valley.  Students from all over the planet.  Middle America.  My New England brethren.  Even people experiencing their first truly bizarre slice of Americana as they make their inaugural steps towards building a new life/career on this land from another country.

I want to say that I appreciate everything I have in life especially these experiences.  But if I can be intimately honest for a moment the past couple of years haven't necessarily been kind to me, and I've hit some rough patches.  That said I still want to continue to push myself.  Better myself.  Notably by traveling more, and just living my life to the absolute hilt.  For example I was fortunate enough to go out on an European excursion with some friends almost immediately right after my time in the wasteland.  That also took me well out of my comfort zone, but that's a story for a later date.

I want to thank you for reading my tale.  I'm an amateur blogger/storyteller, and the greatest compliment I think I can ever receive is when people tell me that my writing is like "journeying down a rabbit hole."  I hope this text finds you well regardless of if you feel the need to read it all at once, or in bits and pieces over time.

However you enjoy this story.  Above all.  Know that you are never alone.

Welcome home.