trip report: burning man 2002
Introduction
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Like sex, drugs and VC-backed startups, burning man is one of those
experiences that doesn't translate well into writing. To capture the full
monty, you have to do it, giving into the experience without freaking out.
The burning man rules make sense, but they're pretty different than the
real world. Obviously, nobody cares about clothing choices, sexual
practices, etc. -- but god help you if you're caught with boas, glitter or
dumping gray water. Leave no trace and they mean it. Technically, it's
30,000 people camped in a several square mile area for a week. Unlike
Bombay or Tokyo, there are simple, meaningful street addresses but like
those cities, addresses aren't always enough. There's no telephones or
celphones, and only losers go online. But there is a messenger service
that delivers almost anywhere. Unlike Fedex, I hear they can deliver
metaphysical things too.
Also like sex, BM is experienced very differently by different people.
There's partiers of course-- ravers, fratboys, gayboys, fetishists, etc.
There's also normals-- townies, artists, techies, old school engineers who
build stuff, even lawyers. I went with three lawyers. On the drive in,
one of the conversations dipped into tax law and public policy. They have
various expertise in the history and theory of taxation, I'm an expert at
paying taxes.
Since the above is probably just clever words around things you already know
or heard about, the rest of this report is being written as a set of
answers to a game of 20 questions, including the ones you wouldn't ask in
polite company. If you need a one liner-- it's a giant RenFair with no
theme, and where everybody's in costume, but nobody worries about themes
or anacronisms.
Answers to Unasked Questions
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A1. yes, it is a "gift" economy-- I used some money to leave a note for a
coworker, but otherwise didn't touch the stuff while I was there. IMHO,
it's cool because it levels out the experience for people who don't have
a lot of capital, but have other things to offer.
A2. a lot of caffeine (red bull), alcohol and I ate a lot of things whose
source I didn't know. The tequila-spiked root beer float was definitely
the most interesting. That, and lemonade from a stand across the street
with an X-rated front that suggested an alternate recipe for their
lemonade ("straight from the source"). I checked first on that one-- it
was crystal light.
A3. no, we didn't have a theme camp. Given our lack of preparation, we were
lucky to have tickets and water. As a bunch of white collar types, we
threw money at the problem, renting an RV and hitting Wal*Mart for a
shade structure, bikes and other supplies. All told, it came to ~$900 a
person, including the ticket. If you volunteer to get your ticket and
hitch a cheap ride in, you can theoretically pull it off for $100-200.
Beautiful use of sliding scale.
A4. "better bring a light... you could get hit by a fish". Yes, carrying
some kind of light is important, because there's a ton of bicycles and
art cars going in every direction-- and even though it's a huge place and
the cars are going 5mph, you can still get hit. We had a narrow scrape
with a giant fish. And no, I didn't have sex on the playa, so I can't
tellya.
A5. The living was a regression to spring break-- portapotties, bottled
water, and whatever didn't need much cooking. The last thing you want to
do is take the time to cook a hot meal in the scorch, only to have to
wash dishes and overflow your gray water tank. Damned thing only held a
couple of gallons, and they don't let you dump on the playa, meaning you
have to dry the stink on a tarp. There goes the Arabian Nights fantasy.
The best meal was a can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, diluted with
bottled water and eaten uncooked. Nobody eats much anyway-- the heat
screws up your system.
A6. definitely-- the closing of the duck. We stayed out all night, then on a
whim, we biked out to the duck, a nightclub housed in the base of a 30
foot high model rubber ducky. The duck is way out there-- a 15 minute
bike ride from the nearest camp. But once you get there, it's very very
cool-- a melange of lounge singers followed by hipster jazz bands, blues
and so on. As with the other bars, the gift economy is in force, so they
don't take paper but do encourage donations of liquor so they can keep
serving. We arrived just in time for the last two songs, then biked back
alongside the last bus, a full-sized pirate ship with a jazz band rocking
out a great jam, with 50 people dancing all over the upper and lower
decks and hanging onto the side. The sun was rising in the background,
and we split off from them to head back to camp.
A7. 90'0" and Wheelhouse. When you enter, they give you a map of the city,
which is critical for navigating around. It's a 270 degree ring 8 blocks
deep with a giant open area in the middle, and the Man at the center.
The open area is a 10 minute bike ride across-- they call it the "playa"
but that name is also used to describe the desert floor. Beyond this
circular area is a vast open area with installation art, random sites
like The Duck and "lowdensity" camping (no vehicles). On the other side
is an airport with about 30 planes at any given time, medical facility,
nevada police, etc. 90'0" and Wheelhouse is the burbs, but convenient to
a slew of great techno clubs and bars. It's across the playa from the
alternative stuff, like Temple of Atonement, Friends and Family, etc.
A8. yes, I saw a lot of naked people. How many? Let's say this: more than
10 years of living in berkeley, put together, including private parties.
It was pretty mixed-- mostly 25-35, with some younger and some older.
The next camp over were a bunch of heavily tattooed men and women, And
yes, most of the them were very attractive, including the men.
After the first twenty I stopped noticing except for interesting tats or
bodywork. It also doesn't hurt to be dating a total babe.
A9. I went shirtless sometimes, and got lazy around the RV, but otherwise
didn't bother. Underwear soaks up sweat, which I prefer to dripping,
thank you very much.
A10. yes, I showered but not thoroughly. Still, it was a lot easier on the
body than the Green Tortoise, because we had a shower in the RV, plus
numerous friends around the playa. Lastly, you can borrow a shower from
almost anyone, certainly in exchange for things like spray bottles, ice
or vodka.
A11. yes, it's insanely hot. Let me compare: New Orleans in July seems like
a San Francisco evening next to 2pm on the playa. You know that "dry
heat" saying? heh. They say: "remember to drink water" -- yeah, and I
should also remember to pump blood and breath too. The big secret is
spray bottles: way more effective than drinking, and you don't get
bloated. Alcohol and exstacy are dangerous, and partiers are warned.
A12. the art is pretty cool, and I'm notoriously picky. By far, the most
impressive was the Temple of Joy, a full-sized (100+ feet) temple made of
intricately connected pieces of jigsawed wood panels. It was
breathtaking. Then they burned it, of course. The "man" didn't impress
me much. But like the old twin towers, he's critical for navigating.
Saturday night after the burn was pretty tricky, because the lights of
the city are useless-- little camps are scattered in all directions, each
with their own lights.
A13. really, it's a huge place. To bike the outer length of it would easily
take an hour or more. It probably compares favorably to manhattan, but
obviously less dense and obviously more things to do. Biking at night is
straight out of a Star Wars movie, with blinky lights and shadowy figured
emerging from the dark in all directions, complete with strange costumes
and vehicles. The "art cars" are fabulous-- at one point, we boarded a
double-length muni bus that had been gutted and converted into a dance
club. They'd shut the doors, drive a few blocks, then let people on and
off, the DJ never stopping the spin. We once hitched a ride on a the
tail of a giant chesire cat, everything covered in yellow fur. Some guys
from the Camp Antarctica were giving away snowcones, and throwing
snowballs at us while we drove off.
A14. no, I didn't end up carving stone-- it was way too hot during the day,
and at night, my friends wanted to party. We only stayed 3 nights, so we
partied hard all of them, sleeping until the early afternoon. Well, ok,
everyone but me, of course.
A15. no, I didn't login, didn't check email and didn't check voicemail. It
was pretty easy-- there's way too much to do given the time and energy
you have left after discounting for partying, the heat and other
recreation. I didn't carve stone, cook, take photos, see half the art
pieces I wanted, get my body painted or meet all my neighbors.
A16. playa dust is overrated. The desert floor is dead flat, caked mud aka
hardened dust. People talk about the stuff like they're tribbles-- get
some in your stuff and you'll never get rid of it. Anybody who says this
hasn't worked with plaster or alabaster dust, much less done indian or
chinese cooking. Playa dust is water soluble, washes off your hands
pretty easily, doesn't stain and isn't toxic. They say it's pretty
alkaline, though. Without a decent layer of grease, some bikes started
to rust in days; mine is an ancient mess of old paint and grease, which
kept the playa off the metal. It ended up cleaner than it started.
A17. the dust storms and rains are also overrated, though I've been told that
this year was exceptionally mild. But look, when it rains in monsoon
countries, there's nothing you can do but just deal. Shelter doesn't
help-- you're not going to hole up for weeks at a shot, only to get an
unpredictable hour's reprieve. The dust storms are easily defeated with
a filter mask and goggles, they're over in an hour or two, you can see
them coming and they only affect part of the playa. I biked out of the
way of one-- big woop. You're not wading through sewage-infected waters
to get groceries.
A18. mostly, it was as I expected, if overwhelming in scale. The weirdest
thing was how white it all was-- my crew spotted 4 black people, and I
was one of 10 oriental men we spotted, and we easily saw 10,000 people.
Maybe black people don't believe in spending $500-1000 to sit in a hot
desert and party with honkies. The burn is also a west coast thing-- a
reporter called me to ask about the art and the influence of 9/11. Aside
from a 9/11 reference in a bad poetry slam reading, I spotted nothing.
But there was a world-class cafe serving 8 kinds of espresso drinks,
home-made lemonade, iced tea and chai. I ran into a dozen people I knew
from the Bay Area, only about half in tech, the rest from around
Berkeley, UC, trips to LA, parties, etc.
A19. during the day, it's too hot to deal, and if you've been out partying
until the sunrise, you need the nap. Still, you invariably go out for a
couple of hours in the scorching afternoon. By far the most memorable
experience was biking out the airport to visit Christian, a coworker of
mine who was flying in saturday at noon. On the way, I biked to Temple
of Atonement, where I'd lost my glasses the night before-- I found them
in seconds. After that, I dropped off a PCMCIA flash memory adapter off
at a friend's RV-- he'd forgotten his, and wanted to upload some photos.
The gift economy almost demanded that I borrow a cup of internet, but
with all the other distractions, I never bothered-- it was hard enough
staying focused enough in the heat. After that I went out to the
airport, but Christian and I never hooked up-- either he was late or
something came up. I left him a note on the billboard, amidst the
thousands of other notes. While I waited the hour, I met a couple of
people, including two people from Berkeley. One turned out to be a
friend of my girlfriend's (small world, not really), and we chatted a
little between drinks at the bar-- gift econ as usual, but in the noon
heat, I don't have much enthusiasm even for gin&tonic, especially
recovering from the night before, on 2 hours sleep. The other Berkeleyan
had a spray bottle, and he was giving gifts liberally-- nice... Then, in
walks a guy in a leather thong, a belt and a mesh mask. Claims he's from
the Church of Prospective Indulgence-- the idea is that he'll let you pay
for your sins in advance, with public whippings of course. One hit's
good for an hour of future sinning, but he was running a special-- 10 for
a day. Sounds creepy, but he was clearly a reasonable guy, and pretty
funny too. So the woman in this straight couple says-- well, let me see
you hit on this chair. Uh oh, I think-- I know where this is going, and
it's not my scene... Before I got up to check on Christian one last time,
they had already progressed from the chair to hers and her husband's feet
(too lazy to stand up in the heat), to her pulling down her pants for 10
which became 20. I didn't see the end of it, but it sounded something
like don't... stop. don't... stop. don't... stop. It's all about
trying stuff you'd never do at home, either because you don't have the
tools, skills or personal space. I already get to live out my fantasies,
so the burn is 5 days away from them. If I were into leather and whips,
the office is literally down the street from Folsom Street Fair.
A20. yes, there's a lot more than this-- but that's the part of my experience
that would be different than the one you'd have, so there's no point in
sharing. Don't go if you have no tolerance for dust, noise or
inconvenience. Go if you like the idea of clothing-optional summer camp.
Other People's Photos
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A friend forwarded me some photos, unfortunately without saying who took them.
aerial photo of the playa
bikes were popular
woman all dressed up
the amazing temple of joy #1
the amazing temple of joy #2
Seahorse Dragon
adrift
cafe in dust