|
We
got there Wednesday evening and set up camp. I put the parachute over the whole truck to block some of the winds
which were about, I don't know, 150 mph. I kept saying the winds
would die down as soon as it got dark but they never died down. |
 |
The
next day it started raining. The parachute was not water proof. I said that this was going to be
a lot of fun as soon as the hurricane was over.
If I had known
about the weather I would have brought a wind mill instead of the solar
panel. I would have made space suits instead of motorized arm
chairs, and I would have gone anywhere else in the world but here. The
Burningman people said it was sunny and warm during the day and cool
at night.
|
|
They lied.
I used auto-adjust in Photoshop on all these photos.
Photoshop could not believe they were as dark as they were, consequently
these photos look as though the weather was tolerable. It wasn't. It
was a freezing, raining, typooning, hurricane of a tornado with floods
and dust and the ground swallowed us up and I am not exaggerating the slightest little bit. |
|
The odd
thing is that nobody seemed to mind. Everyone seemed ecstatic with joy and love
for their fellow man,
Damn them.
|
They wouldn't get off the chairs
 |
The MoChairs broke down after about three days. We
had to leave them out on the Esplinade where they got a lot of attention. When
we returned people were taking turns having their photos taken in them.
I tried to borrow a welder from a theme camp. The assistant said that it was up to the artist. I started walking over there and he said, Oh, no. you can't talk directly to him." |
|
Fortunately
I also made an Emergency Backup Vehicle, EBV. It is rear wheel steered and independent
front wheel drive, sociable three wheeler. Another feature is that it tips over around turns.
It was faster than the chairs but it was a workout to go into the wind. We
had to anchor it when stopped to keep it from flying away into the sky. But it
never broke down. The rubber tires became brittle because it was as cold as liquid
nitrogen outside. Now I'm exaggerating. |
|
Other
Vehicles:
There were many vehicles this year. Most of them were so clever that it
was overwhelming. I kept exclaiming, "Wow! Look at that. That's ingenious."
|
|
That's
my daughter Michelle, and her then boy friend, Bruce. They
came up but didn't stay very long. I was disappointed that
they didn't get to drive the chairs.
Below, are other burning kids. No apparent damage from trauma yet, but we should study
them for 20 to 40 years.
|
|
We
didn't find my friend Dan Delany until Friday. He said he was going to be on Sex
drive. I said, "Yes but where are you camped?" I noticed his camp had
its fair share of Sex Drive. (I've been working on that joke for 6 months) Friday
morning I said lets start at one end of Sex drive and we'll see if we can see
his couch on sex drive. It was better than looking on Anus Drive, although the
weather looked like Uranus, no offense. (Did you know it rains diamonds on Neptune)
Within 30 seconds Dan came running out and flagged us down. That was miraculous.
The storm was becoming particularly Plutonian just then so we all ran into his
tent which was a marvelous geodesic dome which withstood the cyclonic winds very
well. It was built by his friend, Ben. We all huddled in there and tried to shout
over the howling, screaming Koyanisquasty winds. It quickly drove us all
mad.
You can see his couch is very well built. If I had met him earlier I probably would have copied
his design. He had the blender and lamp with shade. Our lamp shade and umbrella
didn't last 5 minutes. He says his couch got up to 25 mph. Last year he won the
contest for fastest living room furniture and brought home a large trophy. I think it was the next year that the federalies gave him a ticket for speeding on the playa. $50. They followed him to his camp to get his license. |
|
And then there was the whole threat about getting a permit to drive motorized
couches around. Without a Department of Mutant Vehicles Permit, one would be arrested and impounded and chained and buried alive. What a Kafka-esque experience. On the second day, I finally found the DMV
that they all talked about in person and on the web for months. It was a small
tent set way back off the road with an unbelievably small sign that said, "dmv". But no one was home.
I asked a neighbor and they
said the owner, Jewels, was at the bar.
I went to the bar and they said those
two people who just left are going to see Jewels.
I caught up with them and they
said, "Oh, Jewels is getting married right now. She'll be back in a half
an hour." I made them repeat it several times but I still mostly have it wrong.
I gave the guy a ride on my chairs and then went on home. It took me just about all day to get that far.
I drove around so much looking for the permit that my chairs broke down.
|
|
Burning people say that the bad weather
is part of the experience of Burningman. I understand that Larry Harvey wants
to punish himself for the way he treated his old girl friend but its been 15 years
he should get over it. The bad weather does NOT add to the experience. The bad
weather turns it into a nightmare, huddled in tiny shelters, shivering, wet and
miserable for days, waiting for the fun to end. "When will it end?"
Sleeping in mud, you can't open your eyes, which are red and swollen and mud is
in your mouth and in your coffee and even in your Tupper wear.
I also have to mention that the Porta potties were overflowing: toilet paper piled
up over the seat tops for several days. I thought this was just a little incompetent
especially since when we entered, they made such a point of threatening us with
arrest if we urinated on the playa. For two days there were no toilets. What's
up with that? I went and complained at the front gate. I was practically
pounding on the desk, "These people are just trying to go to the bathroom."
Was that too righteous? I think they called up the porta potty people and
told them to take another day off. |
|
I
made it to the end, just barely. We loaded up the truck for departure before the
man burned. I drove the truck out onto the Playa, right past a Ranger who did
not ask to see my Mutant Vehicle permit, and I picked up the broken down motorized
chairs with the homemade crane.
That night, on the playa, I was thankful they
burned the man early. As he was engulfed in flames and fireballs I began backing
up. I watched the fireworks over our shoulder. The man fell over and I was
running for the truck. While he smoldered I raised a dust cloud out of Dodge. My hair like
mud encrusted barbed wire, my thousand dollar camera: an artifact of a previous
time, and the smell of my clothes; holy Mary mother of all that can save us in
our hour of need.
When I got home the weather was so beautiful
it almost made me cry.
There really is no place like home. |
created 2001 Modified 1/12/09 |
