(Here it is, the final time I will talk about this event.)
Greetings from...Lake Tahoe this time.
I wish I could plan a real trip here. It always seems like an afterthought. A safe haven. A woodsy mountain daydream through filtered sunlight and cool early autumn breezes.
I lasted four days at Burning Man.
Four. Geez.
In those four days I've ridden in/on two planes, one helicopter, two jeeps, an SUV limo, one art car, a rickshaw, a motorcycle, three bicycles (one of which I think I stole), my rollerblades (not a great idea) and piggybacking on Ben.
(And a stretcher but shhhhhhh.)
I would like to stop moving but I can't stay here. This is just a well-appointed pit stop on the way home. I mean, until I'm cleared to fly. If that doesn't happen soon we're driving.
I'm okay. Everyone is okay. No one stayed behind at Burning Man or was all that disappointed, frankly. I was not prepared for the conditions (in spite of all of my efforts) and had a four-day nosebleed which has morphed into a double-ear and sinus infection and I'm having some really great frightening shortness of breath moments on top of it all now. It's lovely.
Panic attacks. Caleb corrects me with his theories, of which there are more. He thinks I orchestrated this so I could leave. Yay. Yes, please. If I can spontaneously bleed then I'm the second-fucking-coming and you'd better get on your knees right the fuck now.
(We're not speaking. He is concerned, however.)
The theory that works here is that everyone is beautiful when you're fucked up, but so is everything, and that holds true for life and for Burning Man. If you're straight then not so much, I'm afraid. It was interesting in a people-watching sort of way, which I did a lot of the first couple of days. I then tried to take it easy when the stigmata started and I called Sam with my nose stuffed full of cotton and made some jokes about converting to Catholicism because if I thought I was popular before just wait until they get a load of this and he was also concerned.
It was the most giant make-work project of my life. I'm only glad I didn't deal with the stocking of the RV and cooking like previous years when I didn't even get to go but now that I've seen it with my own eyes I can check it off my list.
And honestly, no, it's absolutely nothing like the circus. Nothing at all. No, the people aren't the same. No, the whole vibe wasn't even good. Just no.
If you love it and it's your reason for living, then it's yours. Take it. Here, I freed up some space. We gave everything away that we brought, including my rollerblades. We got a lot of hugs. A lot of people were genuinely concerned for me.
I didn't see anyone I knew. I didn't see the same person twice. We got invited to a lot of private parties which aren't supposed to be a thing but I tested that theory too and it's all true.
I'll be happy to get home. Take your I-told-you-so's and stuff 'em. My body couldn't handle the conditions, the dust, the dryness or the heat. Everyone is kicking themselves because my track record for split fingers and nosebleeds all winter long when it's dry is near-legendary at this point so they all think they should have somehow been able to connect the dots.
I don't even care at this point. I'm just looking forward to my own bed, and a big joint birthday party at home that was rescheduled and now doesn't have to be.
Greetings from...Lake Tahoe this time.
I wish I could plan a real trip here. It always seems like an afterthought. A safe haven. A woodsy mountain daydream through filtered sunlight and cool early autumn breezes.
I lasted four days at Burning Man.
Four. Geez.
In those four days I've ridden in/on two planes, one helicopter, two jeeps, an SUV limo, one art car, a rickshaw, a motorcycle, three bicycles (one of which I think I stole), my rollerblades (not a great idea) and piggybacking on Ben.
(And a stretcher but shhhhhhh.)
I would like to stop moving but I can't stay here. This is just a well-appointed pit stop on the way home. I mean, until I'm cleared to fly. If that doesn't happen soon we're driving.
I'm okay. Everyone is okay. No one stayed behind at Burning Man or was all that disappointed, frankly. I was not prepared for the conditions (in spite of all of my efforts) and had a four-day nosebleed which has morphed into a double-ear and sinus infection and I'm having some really great frightening shortness of breath moments on top of it all now. It's lovely.
Panic attacks. Caleb corrects me with his theories, of which there are more. He thinks I orchestrated this so I could leave. Yay. Yes, please. If I can spontaneously bleed then I'm the second-fucking-coming and you'd better get on your knees right the fuck now.
(We're not speaking. He is concerned, however.)
The theory that works here is that everyone is beautiful when you're fucked up, but so is everything, and that holds true for life and for Burning Man. If you're straight then not so much, I'm afraid. It was interesting in a people-watching sort of way, which I did a lot of the first couple of days. I then tried to take it easy when the stigmata started and I called Sam with my nose stuffed full of cotton and made some jokes about converting to Catholicism because if I thought I was popular before just wait until they get a load of this and he was also concerned.
It was the most giant make-work project of my life. I'm only glad I didn't deal with the stocking of the RV and cooking like previous years when I didn't even get to go but now that I've seen it with my own eyes I can check it off my list.
And honestly, no, it's absolutely nothing like the circus. Nothing at all. No, the people aren't the same. No, the whole vibe wasn't even good. Just no.
If you love it and it's your reason for living, then it's yours. Take it. Here, I freed up some space. We gave everything away that we brought, including my rollerblades. We got a lot of hugs. A lot of people were genuinely concerned for me.
I didn't see anyone I knew. I didn't see the same person twice. We got invited to a lot of private parties which aren't supposed to be a thing but I tested that theory too and it's all true.
I'll be happy to get home. Take your I-told-you-so's and stuff 'em. My body couldn't handle the conditions, the dust, the dryness or the heat. Everyone is kicking themselves because my track record for split fingers and nosebleeds all winter long when it's dry is near-legendary at this point so they all think they should have somehow been able to connect the dots.
I don't even care at this point. I'm just looking forward to my own bed, and a big joint birthday party at home that was rescheduled and now doesn't have to be.