14: Group Participation

"Lulu!"

"What!"

"Grab my sweatshirt!"

"Where is it!?"

"It's in the bin!"

Our clothes were in large tupperware bins. We were told it was better to use bins, easier to organize and better at keeping out the dust, but none of that made sense to me. The clothes are in the bin, which isn't airtight anyway, then you take the supposed playafree clothes out and then you, that's right, put them on your dust covered skin and then walk out into a windstorm. Yeah the bins are big help that way! But the argument for plastic bins over the usual backpacks we use for camping is that out here on the playa, the backpacks would get ingrained with playadust. Cause the shit is everywhere.

I stood straddling my bike as tents rattled and shifted. Lights flashed behind the blue nylon as G and Wags rustled within one, and Lu wrestled with the zipper on our home. Siv was rummaging around in a cooler and he came up two handed and grinning. The beer arc to my hand made me smile. We toasted from a distance.

We were making a pit stop at the camp in the middle of our Thursday night playajam. We'd been to The Edge, we'd been to the Man, we'd been through The Maze and now it was time to refuel. Five fresh Sierras laid in ice in the small, soft cooler strapped to rack on the back on my bike. My headlamp was on. I was ready to go.

"LET'S DO THIS PEOPLE!" I shouted into the camp. "THE PLAYA ISN'T GOING TO ENJOY ITSELF!"

"Not again!" I heard G call from his tent. "You have to come up with something else to say!"

"Tell it to the beer 'cause the Bones don't care. LET'S GETTA MOOVONIT!"

"I can't find your sweatshirt!" Lu called to me, exasperated.

"Forget it!" I hollered back. "Let's just get going."

"You know," Mish said to me, "you're kind of impatient sometimes."

"Oh, thank you, that's so nice of you to say! WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?"

They both laughed and then Siv did a hop skip while Mish did the crazy bike wiggle funny face fun time let's go dance now!

"I can't believe you guys rode up right then," Mish told me.

"We were really right about to leave," Siv added.

I took a big sigh to pull in the delicious dust and then blew it out as my eyes lidded over and the awesomeness of perfect timing washed through me and I said "It was great. It was perfect. I'm so glad we get to all do this together tonight! BUT WE HAVE TO GET MOVE ON IT IF WE'RE GOING TO HAVE ANY FUCKING FUN ON THIS FINE THURSDAY NIGHT!"

"Bones. God! Just relax they're almost ready," Lu said to me as she walked up and tossed me my sweatshirt.

"Thanks baby," said to her and snatched a kiss as she mounted her bike. I watched happily. Then G and Wags strolled back into view from the dark corners of Curvas. In seconds we were gone 'cause there was so much more to see.

I was suprised to find us passing the roller disco again. I figured we would have checked it out before now, and yet once again, we rode by. There were a few people out there, but not many. And the idea of getting off the bike, slipping off the Crocs and strapping on the skates just seemed like such a process when we were already well on our way back to the playamadness. The din of party called us.

Out on the Esplanade we finally stopped at the ginormous art we'd passed time and again the last 24 hours. It was large. It was at 6oclock, right in the center of the curve. It was at least seventy feet tall. Three arms hung off and down from the central trunk. They jutted out about twenty feet, and hung down about thirty feet. At the bottom of each large arm was a large boulder. A rock. Three of them at least ten feet wide. These three boulders were at the bottom of three hefty arms all attached to a large central trunk. The arms with their rocks spun from the top of the trunk. Hanging from the bottom of each rock was a rope. The rope was around ten or twelve feet long. If you stood up and grabbed it, you could pull on the rope and make the three arms turn and the other people hanging from the other ropes could turn upside down or swing like monkeys or help out by running around in the circle too and make the whole damn thing turn like hell. G hung upside down for at least four rotations. Lu couldn't reach the rope so I lifted her. Then I pulled hard, making the whole damn thing rotate but not nearly as fast as I thought we could, and when I was done I was tired. Only working together made it fun.

Up the road a bit was a lifesized game of Operation. We had played it the first night and smiled again as we passed it. The thing was in perfect proportions. The paintjob was exact. The funnybone and butterfly and breadbox and monkeywrench were all there, nestled in their red crevaces, surrounded by a form-fitting ring of metal beneath the yellow plywood painted surface. The nose was a rudolph-red nose. The operee was plump, naked and wide-eyed, just like in the small, original version. And when you took the salad tongs wrapped in rubber and saw the wires running over to the car battery, you knew it was going to hurt when you missed. Many did. But Lu scored four in a row. I matched her, but couldn't take it over the top. Instead, on the last one, reaching across for the funnybone after a quick buzz, I just went for it and pegged the tongs to the the metal edge and pretended to be shocked so hard my body stated to flip out, but I was only kidding. They mostly knew that.

"We played that last night, too," Mish told me as we rode and I relayed our Operation Experience of the previous eve.

Then we came to the Thunderdome. We'd passed it a few times, but this was our first upclose experience with this particular dome. I was captivated. Seeing the humans strung from the interlocking triangles, just sitting up there on the dome, looking down, watching the action, well there was just no place else I could be. I dropped my bike on top of Lu's and everyone else's and I headed directly upwards.

From behind, I heard Wags say, "It's much better if we just all pile the bikes together. Harder to..." but I was at the PVC. I gripped the cool white cylinder, reached for the one above, pulled my left foot, and then I began to climb.

The Thunderdome was filled with freaks hanging from every junction. I passed three rows of people before finding a niche to tuck in to. Below I saw Lu and Mish begin to work their way in to the crowd surrounding the bottom perimeter. Then the fights began. They did it just like the movie.

Black-clad, pissed off large dudes brought the contenders out with shouting and fanfare. The guys were strapped in around the legs and hung from straps across their backs. The surly men running the show pulled each guy back so his feet were off the ground and then they let them fly. In their hands were large, black q-tips, but the tips weren't all the q, and when they came flying at each other, it got harsh. Boffo sticks were swung hard. Heads were rocked back. Blows to the bodies delivered grunts and groans as they struggled almost suspended on large rubber bungie bands. Whenever their limbs would tangle too much, the leather clad thundebouncers would wrangle in and pull the contestants apart and then pull them back and let them fly one more time at each other's faces. It was brutal mayhem, and I was happy to be a freak above, instead of a brute within. But it was all of us there together that made it ridiculous and edgy. We shouted. The swinging sticks and thuds against bodies. The guys who set it up roaming, scowling. The glowing neon sign at the top of the dome. The playa behind littered with roving forms of freaky glow and artcars that barely missed taking the life of a human that worshipped it at high speed.

I got the shout and it was time to go. Five pink oval faces looked up at me and I began to climb down. The night was going off and once back on the bikes and riding down the esplanade, I marvled at the fact that we didn't all just pile up into one huge bike accident, over and over again. That somehow despite lyseric acid and liquor, despite pot and shots and way too many bikes and all the insane distractions, that somehow, together we just barely slipped by grazing atoms already thick with dusty friction to slide on through the night and roll right by one another to the next inclusive adventure that we of Burning Man had to offer to each other.

13: Alone in the Dust pt 3

Rage-osity. Deep disappointment. Anger and disgust at the world. They blow through me and sometimes I let them out. Shouts of anger. Furious fists thrown at the dusty, lonely wind. Airkicks and jumptantrums that would make a mother spin.

Fucking fuck fuck. Now I've fucked it all up 'cause I lost them for a second of Burn Night, of Saturday night, of THE night and I fucked it up by zigging when I should have zagged. Now I'm dropped back all night. Now three steps behind whatever I choose. Unless it's the shortcut, which is all I can hope for. And even that's too much. All because of those fucking theives on the first goddamn night. I can see us leaving the tall structure the spin thing out there on the playa all made of wood and big rubber bands, us going back for our bikes, and only three of us picking them up while Wags stood around confused. And in her basket was this moment's salvation.

"THOSE FUCKING THEIVES STOLE MY WIFE!"

Right now, the walkie talkie in my hand is the missing link between me and my love, and some asshole thief out there was talking on it, totally unauthorized. Damn him straight to hell.

"Hello, hello, come in asshole theives. If you're out there come back, I want my wife back please. And the walkie talkie you're holding. Roger that dickhead." Static is the reply.

After more wandering and jumping and grumping and blasting I sit down again hard on the suburban playa, crosslegged, lonely and then this guy sits down next to me. It's a dude with a guitar who strums along in drunken sympathy, and as he does I go:

"Goddammit what am I gonna do now that I'm here and she's out there and there's no way she's gonna find me. Do I wait or roll, fret and freak or smooth it out with some sweet smoke? Fringe it? Fling it? Find a way to find a way? Chase the night or wait for light. That's what I have to choose from and neither one sounds much better than the other 'cause no matter what I pick, out here on the hot, deep playa, I'm just a speck of dust. So much could happen. So little. So what. So where do I go... besides everywhere she is there are too many places she isn't. I'll just have to go for it. She's not coming back so I have to go search. There's no other way. Sitting here as it all Burns is like bringing marshmellows to a pool party. Only fools drink glowsticks!"

I finish airless and he stops playing.

"Right on man. You gotta go find her, man. She's out there and you're just right here."

"I know but what if she--"

"You gotta go man. It's Burning Man. Just go for it. It'll happen."

"I guess."

"Or something will."

"That's true," I say looking at him. I give him the ole one arm hug, and then use him to stand, looking this way and that way down the dark, empty street. I turn and head to camp.

Beer water goggles flashlight. Toss the lone walkie talkie on the air mattress then leave the tent in a huff. I write a tiny note and place it under the stuffed puppy I won for her on Friday night from the Shuttle Captain and put them on a stool in the middle of the entrance to the camp. I find a glowstick and lay it across the stool-stuffed-puppy-message setup. From my bike near the street I look back to see if she'll find it. The night is pitch. I can't see anything and I even know to look for it. The guitar guy is gone. Whatever. Fuck it. It's there, he's gone, she's somewhere, I tried, it's time to roll.

I'm one pedal loaded and tossing my leg over the cruisemachine. Time to mother-fucking-go. I came back to the beginning. I did the only thing I knew how to. I waited. I waited longer than it would have taken me to get here if Lu was missing and this was the only place I knew to find her. And now it was time to go out to finish the night on my own, and see what I could salvage of the madness. I left a note. It said "Green Gorilla Lounge, xo B1s".

Hard across the ground standing, then coasting, then pushing hard with one leg then the other. God we biked so much. Thurday night with the six of us was so fun. We rode everywhere that night. The Maze! It's gone! They burned that shit down! The Man above! He's toast! He's the biggest bonfire I've ever seen, and I can see it from all the way out here in the suburbs. The edge we took it took to and then took it back from. After the refueling, we rode into the night head-on. There's nothing we didn't see and somehow no matter what, we managed to stay together. Same with Friday. Friday was all about dancing. With Wags back tire on her borrowed bike flat, there was no point in going far. I rode her broken bike the whole damn night and it didn't bother me at all, but it didn't cruise like this machine did, either. This bike was the shit. At least I only misplaced my wife tonight, which I'm certain to find eventually. Once a bike vanishes out here, it's never seen again. We proved that right off.

I can't friggin believe I lost them. God I'm such an idiot. Thing is they could be heading back to camp the other way. Maybe this spoke isn't the way they're coming back. They could be coming back to the site right now looking for me, not even seeing the note or where I'm going and then this shit would just continue and I'd never find them at all. They're coming back right now, and I just left! Gaaa!

At the first right I cut hard and ride back around the block, swooping by the camp one more time.

There's someone there! Yes! No! It's a guy not G and definitely not Lu or Wags. It's Dougie, the brand new fiance, and not my missing wife.

"Lotus, dude. They're at the Lotus. She's good, but she's missing you. Go there, that's where they're at. Yeah no way, I'm going to bed."

He's out and so am I, each in opposite directions.

It's dark and deep in Black Rock City tonight. The stars above quite clearly never end. I will find her even if I can't call her on the walkie talkies or yell for her by name. I go for it, racing the dust and the wind and the artcars trolling by. Even though I couldn't tame the playa magic to point me directly to her all on my own. Even if I'm lost and dusty and alone on playa burn night, I'm gonna have more fun than a bag full of bananas in a monkey race, and now with Dougie's help, I'm gonna find her. The tires contain my future. Time contains my brain. The wind tells me of flame and smoke. The handlebars are my grip on hope.

Thirty-five dustswept gogglecovered pumpaction hardriding bikeminutes later I'm across the playa past the roaring remains of the Man, and at the Lotus. A beam of green laser cuts the night from six to twelve behind me.

The Lotus is a fucking madhouse. I'm at the edge of my element here, flying solo, lost and loose, flipping on the acid to the massive housebeats blasting from the writhing white and purple green pulsing dome before me. Somewhere in there is my wife. Finding her is going to be interesting.

12: Lost

We sat at the edge of Black Rock City and saw lights coming our way. Our conversation paused and then quieted. Slowly, slowly, slowly the headlights got brighter, then blinding, then the white patrol truck slowly drove by. I had the bowl long out of sight by then, but even the fleeting presence of the sherriff couldn't stop me from letting out some shouts of nighthrill hootinanny.

"That's right sher! Just keep driving! WHOOOOOEEEE!" Then I capered. My friends lounged on the playa laughing.

"We gotta go to the Man next!"

"I want to go in the maze!"

"Let's do it!"

So we gathered our shit and hit the road. It wasn't until a while later when we pulled up at the towering neon form that I went to reach for my Nalgene full of water. But it wasn't hanging from my handlebars where I usually kept it.

"Hey Lu, do you have my water bottle in your basket?"

"Nope," she replied. "Why you don't have it?"

"Nope. I must have left it at the edge! Dammit!"

"No biggie."

"I know, but it's MOOP, too."

"Moop?" Siv asked.

"Matter out of place. Not supposed to leave anything behind on the playa. Everything you bring in, no matter how small, needs to go back out with you. The call it MOOP. And I just contributed WABOOP. Water bottle out of place."

"You are such a dork!" Wags taunted me even as she and Siv and Lu laughed.

"Come'on guys!" Mish called from the entrance.

There was tons of commotion around the Man. Hundreds of bikes parked and piled all over the place as more people rolled up or walked by. Groups of furry freaks gathered in the cool night air as the roving artcars blasted music, fired lights and cruised across the playa, rumbling. In the distance, the curve of the esplanade was bejeweled by the green and red and puple of glowsticks and glowrings. Whirling balls of fire spun on invisible arms as blasts of furnace powered flamed launched into the darkness above suddenly visible dancers, their writhing forms impossibly small in the distance. Behind and above, the Man loomed, slowly turning. I followed Wags eagerly as she filed into the maze. The door was thin plywood and barely large enough to let me by.

I had no idea where everyone else was, but Wags was right in front of me. I figured the rest of them were just ahead, but things quickly got insanely confusing. We went through one room that was painted purple and it had a dresser and a chair in it and the exit was a little revolving door. There were people coming the other way so I jumped in the next available slot and shuffled foward a few steps until I could squeeze through to the next room on the right. Wags popped out behind me and we kept moving. This room was all white with weird bulging forms on the wall and some multicolored paintings in odd frames stuck here and there. The next room was dark and the one after that had a lot of people in it, all coming in and going out in different directions. We followed a few people around another tiny revolving door and then stopped for a second after squeezing out into another room to clear our heads. We were totally lost. Then I heard Lu's voice. It was coming from above and to our left. Somehow they had made it to the second level. We tried to go that way, but the only door was on the right. Then a piece of the wall moved and someone pushed their way through a hidden canvas door.

"Wow!" I cried as my eyes went wide. The woman flopped into the room and then looked around frustrated. "Let's go!" I said to Wags, and we peeled back the painted fabric and pushed through. But this was a room we'd already been in!

"Dammit!"

"Try back this way," Wags suggested. And so we went out the end of the room. But it wasn't right either.

Finally I found a pole and tried to shimmy up it. I got close to the top, but then I couldn't get far enough above the second floor to step up on it. Instead, exhausted, I just slid back down foiled, and we continued wandering in vain.

I could not believe how complicated the thing was! The whole base structure of the Man could not have been larger than fifty feet on a side. But the inside felt enormous. We had so much trouble finding our way through, it nearly drove us insane. Finally, through another secret door we found a room we'd never been in, then another after that and then eventually, cheering we came across the stairway and ran up them to find our friends who had been waiting at least forty minutes up there, if not more.

"You did it!"

"How the hell did you guys get up here so fast?" I demanded.

"Mish was here yesterday. She remembered how to do it!"

"What!?" Wags demanded. "That's not fair! We've been lost forever and you guys just ran up here? Lame!"

"Well, at least we did it right. We figured it out instead of just cheating!"

"Whatever! You're just jealous that I beat you up here!" And then Lu flounced away to check out the silly wandering of those lost below.

It was amusing as hell to watch. Especially when people tried to give suggestions to their friends on how to make it to the stairs. Half the time they'd tell them to go the wrong way on purpose just to mess with them. The maze was a mind-torture that was just too fun. And up there on that second level, in the center of the floor, you could push a wheel around and when a few people got together doing it, the Man above would turn at a good clip, and the longer He turned, the farther his hands would raise. That way, we could tell when things were going crazy in the Man 'cause He'd be spinning at a good clip with is hands raised in triumph. We knew everyone all around the esplanade could see what we were doing. But then it was time to go. I ran for the pole, jumped into the air, grabbed hold and slid down. Lu, still above, was a bit more hesitant. Finally she fought her fears, grabbed hold and slid down. I caught here before she hit the ground. The rest of the crew followed and we started moving back through the maze of crazy rooms and tiny doors. In seconds we were seperated again. My tripping head began to rattle and then hum and finally almost explode. No matter what we did we could not get out of the loop we were in. Five times. FIVE TIMES we walked through a bunch of rooms, only to come out at the stairs again. Five fucking times in a row we ended up exactly where we couldn't find before, and now couldn't not find. It was infuriating.

I don't even know how we did it, but finally a breath of fresh air blew through and somehow or another, we followed it back out to the blessed, open freedom of the playa. It felt amazing to be free. All in all, we probably spent close to two hours lost in that maze. It was insane!

"You know I should have radioed you with the walkie talkie to have you help us get through!" I said to Lu as we rode back towards camp. We needed more provisions before for the rest of the night.

"I don't have my walkie talkie."

"What? Why not! You were supposed to have that with you at all times so we don't get lost."

"It's gone! I told you that."

"It is? You did? When did we lose it?" I asked her.

"We didn't lose it. It was stolen. It was in Wags' basket when her bike was stolen."

"Holy shit. I didn't realize that."

"Well I told you."

"I'm sure you did. But somehow I missed it. Damn that sucks. That's good to know 'cause I was counting on them if we ever got seperated."

"Well, don't anymore, and stay close. I can't even really see cause I'm tripping and that maze almost made me lose my mind!"

"I know! It was crazy! And I'll keep you close, don't you worry. Just keep on rolling. We're almost there!"

"Alrighty" Lu replied.

Together, in silence, the others just up ahead, we aimed for Curvas Peligrosas. As the wheels spun beneath me, my mind still spun on the tiny revolving doors under the Man, still lost in amazement at all this we were a part of, and at how much thieves really do suck.

11: The Edge

The cool breeze whipped by as we rolled hard through the deep playa darkness. It exhilarated my glee. It was wonderful to be out and on bikes, the night high and loose around me. So good to be free of the confusion. Darkness had brought trailers, too. Trailers of motion behind swinging limbs pumping to the beat of the music as we partied at the camp. Then many stages of greeneon blasting by as a glowstick was tossed to a friend getting the bikes ready to go out. Wiring the spokes with multicolored light. Lulu and I laughed at the trend we were discovering as we straddled our bikes, ready. That eons passed between the time it was decided it was time to go, and the moment when the going actually went. Then I had to go back for my eyedrops. Lulu refilled her bottle and added more ice. I realized I needed new batteries for my flashlight. And Lu dropped her bike to go back for another layer. I thought that was a good idea so I followed her, and while we were in our tent, we heard G and Wags calling for us.

"We'll almost ready!" But by the time we were out and back at the bikes, they had disappeared. Waiting, I did a lazy loop leaning in, out on Gestalt, in front of a pumpin' Curvas Peligrosas. Finally, again, G and Wags emerged from the party throng. They mounted, and then relieved to finally be in motion, we wheeled off.

And now we were flying across the playa as fast as Wags' one speed borrowed bike would let her. I did many weaving loops as we crossed the flatness in a long, straight line from 4:20 oclock up to 10 oclock. The Green Gorilla Lounge was our destination. Mish and Siv were the targets of our mad pedaldash. There had been a plan, but the plan had been destroyed by: fiesta, watchlessness, sauza, great tunes and probably most contributory, the tab Lu and I had split just before the sun took a final plunge towards the horizon. Our eyes were open wide behind our goggles as the night rushed by and we rushed to get across and find our friends we'd said we'd meet when the party was over, or some such nonsense.

All of a sudden at the party we had realized it had been night for a while, and that we had to get over there to meet them, or there was no way we were finding them for the rest of the night. So we rallied and then we rode. Hard. Same thing with the trip cascading through my brain. The speed of the bike and the hard flatness of the world caused euphoric delights. Then a form unpeeled from the darkness and it was a shape in the night. We circled briefly, wondering what it could be. It never told us and we didn't guess aloud. Onward we rode.

We got close, but things seemed off. This place was usually a mad tangle of weird people dancing beneath a dome to the sweet sounds of some dj. There was a bar off to the left with micro-brew keg beer and all kinds of crazy liquor drinks. All you had to bring was a cup.

But there was no one there. We expected another party and instead found a ghost-dome.

"They probably left hours ago!" Lu exclaimed as we rode directly into the space.

I circled the round inside edge counterclockwise past the stage then the entrance to the side bar, then past the front door again as Lu stood on her toes in the middle and we looked around at where no one was.

Then hooray! They appeared out of no where! From behind a covered wall of the dome they burst in as happy and surprised as we were!

"We were just about to leave and here you are!" Mish exclaimed.

"We didn't think you guys were going to make it!" Siv agreed as we passed around hugs.

"I know! It got late and then party was still going but it takes us hours to get out of camp anyway so we just rode here really fast hoping that you hadn't left yet and you didn't! I'm so happy!" Lu said in a rush.

"Alright! We'll get our bikes!"

"Do it do it!" I hollered after them. "Sweet. This is gonna be fun," I said to Lu.

"Where are we going?" G called from outside the dome. I wheeled out there and nearly clipped him with my slow wobble. "Watch it!"

"I'm watching it I'm watching it!" I shouted back as I picked up speed and then looped around. "Yeah where are we going?"

Siv and Mish rolled into view, big grins spread across their faces.

"I can't believe you guys are still here," Lu said as she straddled the bike out of the dome, the boy's bar making her move on tip-toes.

"We were napping and then we woke up and we couldn't believe it was ten-thirty-"

"-and we said nine," Lu said to me over her goggles.

"-so we just decided to get up and go and just as we were getting ready to leave there you were!"

"It's a Burning Man miracle!" I shouted at the stars.

"So where are we going?" Mish asked, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Let's go to the perimeter," Wags offered, casually.

"The perimeter?" Siv asked. It was his first time, too.

"Out on the other side. Past the Man, where twelve or one oclock would be."

The streets only ran from 2 oclock to 10 oclock. At the center where the clock hands would meet stood the Man. But the entire circular area of Burning Man was enclosed with a fence. Together we went to find it. Six strong we headed straight for the Man, and then past Him. He spun slowly as we rode past. A huge throng of people were gathered around the base of the tall, neon figure.

"There's a Maze in there," Mish told me.

"Really? Like underneath Him?"

"Totally."

"Oh we have to go in there."

"We're going in there!" Lu called to us. "We're definitely going in the Maze."

"Definitely!"

"We can go later tonight!" Siv suggested.

"Perfect!" we all agreed.

"First to the Edge, though," G finished.

"Always to the Edge!" I shouted back to him as I pedaled off mad dash fast 'cause it felt so fun.

The goggles were tight to my face and I had a bandana wrapped around my mouth. I had a warm shirt on underneath, then a thin gold vest/shirt, and then a button down gold lamae women's blouse on over that. Camo pants covered my legs. It was the same thing I wore every night. Bright and weird enough to fit in and be seen, but warm enough to keep me comfy all night long. Warm socks and Crocs covered my feet. When we got out past everything was when the cool breeze turned windy.

"I can't see!" Lu called from behind me. I slowed to let her catch up. G and Wags passed by and pedaled on ahead as Siv explored a strange structure to the left and Mish cruised off to the side, serene.

"What's wrong baby?"

"I can't see!"

"Me neither!" I called back to her. "You just gotta go with it!" A muffled grunt of annoyance was all I heard back. But it was true. I really couldn't see that well. Things were moving and shimmering, darting through my sight and mind. Out here it was just dark. Thick dark. Moonless. And the thin beam of our head lights and headlamps were no match for the vastness. I was pedaling on adrenaline and instinct alone. Just forward, balanced, steady, hopeful. The rest of the crew was up before me. G's bell rang and the glow strips on Wags' borrowed bike spun fast over the black rock below us. And still we pedaled on.

When I rode looking up, I nearly fell off the earth. When I looked around at the flatness, I felt my soul thin and spread across the desert, blown by the gritty nightbreeze and softly, softly tickled by the meager light of a billion stars blazing at a distance from above. We were at the edge of the world. The edge of thought. The edge of life. There was nothing out here but us. Not even insects plyed the dusty air. Just six humans on six machines with twelve wheels and eyes and legs and arms to move us through the darkness to the limit of our world. Six minds alight. Twelve lungs full of panting laughter.

Lu couldn't see, so I looked harder to help her. And then suddenly we were there. An orange fence, the curve so subtle it almost looked straight. That's how large the circle was we roamed within. Up close and personal, it looked straight. But in truth it was a long, steady dangerous curve that whipped by before us and wrapped all the way around, hours out of sight behind.

There was nothing here but us. So we did the only and absolute thing one should always do at a place like this, as midnight neared, as the stars blazed above, as our bikes lay scattered about and the only sound around was the laughter and shouts and babble of our far-flung party at the very precipice of life. We did what must be done. I packed a bowl. We smoked it, relaxing on the earth. We cracked beers, we toasted life, friends, laughter, first times and love. And truly the world was wonderful, out there in the darkness, lounging at the edge.

10: Tales

By the time we got back to Curvas Peligrosas the sun was well on its way towards the horizon, and the bike parking lot out front with thick with two-wheeled madness. The DJ was pumping tunes we could hear up the street, and the dance area was starting to get some of its shake on. Everyone was decked out in their playa best. Wigs, fur, glittery gold shirts and crazy pants. Sunglasses, horns, hats, costumes, dresses on men, topless women, bathrobes, booty shakin', shots, tossed beers, stealthy bowls and through it all an excitement building as the party grew, the day dimmed and the sexy shadows began to take hold.

"Hard to believe we've only been here less than 24 hours."

"I know, I feel like it's been so much longer," I replied as we made our way through the throng.

Once in the kitchen we started getting the food ready to make guac and we got to know our camp-mates better. Besides G, Wags, J-Bird, Darren and Max we knew none of the other twenty plus people. But right from the start, everyone was so nice.

Skeeter was in the kitchen grilling up food, and I got caught up in a conversation with him about the situation in New Orleans. He had been at camp since early in the week and hadn't heard that the levees had broken and shit was going bad. It was tough to tell him and others about the watery destruction of a city we all had been to and loved. And it was especially odd and awful to think about what the people throughout the Gulf region were going through, even as we were there in the dry, dusty Black Rock City, having the times of our lives.

The level of destruction we compared, on a much smaller scale, to the imagery of the devestation from the earthquake and tsunami near Banda Aceh. Turned out Skeeter was on an island right by there. On the day of the wave, he was one of the few people that knew what it meant when the ground shook hard, and then the waters receded far out of sight. It took a great deal of convincing, but eventually the other tourists and the villagers listened to his warnings, and just in time, they ran for high ground. The account of his trip back from that deathly edge through the destruction of the wave, to the piles of debris, and the finally back to some sembalance of civilization, well, even out there in the sun, in the shadeless kitchen of the desert, I was chilled. He was lucky to be alive. And man the guy knew how to cook steak.

"It's all in the marinade," he said with a nod.

Munching on a strip, I made my way to the bar.

J-Bird was on the job. "Bones! Whadayaneed?"

"Beer please!" I replied.

"Yergetting a shot, too, buddy."

"Bring it on," I replied with a grin.

From stories of watery deaths elsewhere and at other times, we moved to tragedies out here on the playa. How Wags had been right there last year when a woman had fallen from an art car and was run over. Someone else mentioned poi dancers returning to civilization with second degree burns up and down their arms. All week there were new tales, new stories, new rumors that would flicker across my mind and the people around me.

At one point in the week I heard about a theme camp that offered massages, but they weren't the typical massages of the regular world. When you went in, you were handed a checklist. On the checklist were a serious of options you could include as part of your treatment. According to this guy with the pink tutu telling the story, the options went something like this: I want my masseuse to be: male/female, one of each, or two of either. I want there to be: rubbing, tickling, biting, sucking, fucking, orgasms. I would like used: silk, rope, chains, paddles. Hard medium soft. Slippery or rough. And so on.

I knew that kinda stuff was out there, but it was crazy to hear just how specific one could get. What he never got to that I really wanted to know, is what was the gift the person getting the massage gave in return? 'Cause that's how these things worked there. You couldn't use money, instead you simply gave away, and then the grateful gave back in return. Maybe they wanted beers. Maybe a meal was the return gift. Probably it was something far more naughtly than beer or food, or maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe it truly was a gift, after all.

Then he went on to talk about their friend who had come up for the first time a few years ago, and he had mostly stayed around the camp. Then the night of the Burn, they lost him. Hours later he returned, mostly out of his head on some incredible acid he didn't even mean to take. But the one thing that they did manage to get out of him was that he'd rode in an art car, Malicious and Delicious had been on it with him. One of the girls had given him a blowjob, and then did a transfer to the other.

"What's a transfer?" someone else at the bar asked, but insteading of waiting for the answer I knew but really didn't want to hear out loud, I just slipped away.

On the last day we went into center camp for a while with some friends and sat there chilling out, drinking coffee when an annoucement was made about the fate of New Orleans, what we could do to help and what the Black Rock Rangers were going to do as soon as Burning Man was over. We sat in Center Camp and cried while we listened to that sad tale of a city we loved.

All week there were rumors of duststorms, some of which appeared. There was a story told to me of eight hundred boobies that would be painted and marched proudly through the streets of BRC. On the night I lost Lulu, I heard lots and lots about her as I found friends here and there. We heard about fights, about a Hookah Dome, that if you parachuted onto the playa you didn't have to buy a ticket. That there were people on a mission to Save The Man. That they wouldn't have Burning Man next year. That they definitely would. That this was the largest one yet. That it wasn't. That if you always took a left in the Maze you'd find your way out fast.

On that first day, though, as I sat at the bar reveling in the fun, only a few of the stories had come to pass. There were tales in the making all around me, within the watching brain of every single human under that tent, under every tent, under the infinite sky all over the globe. There were tales told and passed on, whole and complete. There were tales in the making we didn't even know we were bit players in. There were the details of life given freely from one to another as all of us learned who each of us were.

The story that we tell to our self, about our self, is the coherent soul, the focused force that ties us to the world. That ties us to each other. Without our personal stories, we are but husks of lifeless meat. But with them, shared, together, we are a party. And on Thursday night of Burning Man, we raged.

9: Sun Lit Wanderings

It took us a while to get out of camp. Water, beer, goggles, hats, camera, snacks. We knew what we needed but just as we were about to leave, I realized I wanted my green bandana, too. Finally, Lu and I were ready to roll. We were off to see the City in the day, and find out exactly what this Burning Man was all about. We knew it was going to be photographer's feast. And Lu loves nothing better than taking pictures of the beautiful things in the world.

Lu and I took nearly 400 photographs, a good many of which actually came out pretty good. Others in our camp came back with even better photos and I've seen numerous Web pages with the striking imagery of lens-captured art. There is no point in trying to describe the otherworldy, the insane, the hilarious configurations of materials and ideas melded to one another and then set out to play with. The only unique thing I have to offer is the way these structures, the sun, the tents, the people, made me feel and what I found within me as we pedaled through the subtlely curved streets.

At the simplest level, I was content. I felt no worries, no concerns, had no agenda or unmet needs, except for one. I wanted to see it all. Surrounding contentment was eager wonder. To find the crazy nooks and bizarre crannies of this city that sprung from dust and desire, and was hammered into place. When contentment and wonder mixed with the incredible sights we passed at every turn, I felt a growing sense of largeness, of edge, of possbility, of uncertainty, and a thrill that the efforts of my fellow humans had created these remarkable sights.

A bookcase filled with books, alone on the playa gave me pause for the written word. I was happy to see books! I love books! And their tight, powerful depths between their covers reverberated nicely with the hard-packed distances that expanded exponentially from where this lone bookcase stood.

A pirate ship was marooned on the sand. But I knew that once night fell, the dark playa rock would give way before it's skull and bones flag.

Then we came upon huge footprints. A few steps in, a second, smaller pair appeared beside the first. And rising from the sand, before us, were a Woman and Child, constructed out of wire, writhing with thin streams of flowing water, and paused in their trek towards The Man that rose above The Maze in the distance. The figures were tall, and their scale reinforced in me the huge power of life and love and family. We all strove, we all had needs. And someone had seen this in a year gone by. Had seen The Man in the distance and had wondered why he was alone. Where was his family? Where was his wife and child, if he even had them? And if he did, where they on the night when The Man burned to the ground for the sake of a band of dust-filled humans?

We took a loop around the structure where Wags' bike had been stolen the night before, hoping against hope that they had realized their mistake and dropped it off again. But of course, it was no where to be found. We did find a band of French Maids, about thirty of them, scantily dressed, feathers in hand, doing their best to keep the art and humans and bikes playadust free. Their hilariously good spirits and impressive talents belied the enormity of the task before them that day. Lu and I howled with laughter as they sauntered across the brown expanse, towards dustier pastures.

We saw women with dragonfly bikes. We saw a human-sized version of Mousetrap, we saw formations of poles with flags and art cars covered in mirrors. There was a preacher's pulpit and the five headless supplicants. That piece, I'm pretty sure, involved fire during the night. We saw the huge roving flower that we'd seen opened up the night before, but now it lay closed and silent, parked beside the camp it called home.

But it was getting late, and the Fiesta of Curvas Peligrosas was on at 4:20 in the afternoon. We had to ride back, make guac and settle in for a full-on, afternoon disco fiesta of epic proportions. On the way back we passed the Barbie Death Camp and Wine Bistro. Lu took lots of pictures and I laughed at the destruction of so many tiny dolls.

8: The Lazy Days of Curvas Peligrosas

We woke up parched. Lips papery, eyes dry, skin coated in a fine playa grit, my consciousness returned to a dessicated body. I could barely swallow, and despite the intense heat within our nylon enclosure, I was barely sweating. But I was so thirsty it was disorienting. Lu and I struggled from our hot, drowsy tent and were blasted in the face with brightness as we stepped into the day. By the sun it was mid-morning. Probably nine-ish. We'd crashed at sunrise, so that meant we'd only had a few hours of sleep. But it was going to have to be enough, 'cause there was no way were getting back into that greenhouse of a home.

We didn't even speak until we'd both guzzled what was left in our water bottles, and even then I only held out my hand for hers to go get more. It took a while to become fully alert, and a lot of water was the key.

"This shit is intense," I said to her as we got ready for the day.

"We are going to have to drink so much water," she replied.

"For real," I agreed and then popped in my contacts and donned my sunglasses. I wore a wide brimmed hat from New Orleans on my head, my tattoos on my torso, a loose, comfy pair of shorts on my lower half, and pale green Crocs on my feet. Breakfast was hardboiled eggs and yogurt, washed down with mango lemonade and a large amout of water.

"We have to remember to eat, too," I reminded Lu. "It's so easy to get caught up in situations like this that you forget to eat and the next thing you know it's been two days since you had a solid meal."

"We'll just make sure to have at least two good meals every day, and then snack as we need to. I brought lots of goodies," she said with a grin.

"These hardboiled eggs were such a good idea. So easy and perfect for breakfast."

But there was more than just us going on in the kitchen, as we sat on our coolers and ate. There were people everywhere. One guy was cooking up a huge batch of scrambled eggs. A dark-haired woman was making coffee, and someone else was in the process of collecting money to make an ice run. In the moving truck a DJ was spinning some dub and the large speakers facing into the shaded area pumped softly with grooves.

Imagine a standing at the center of a square that was, 15 feet large to it's edge from where you stood. Behind you is a moving truck that's opened and contains the entire setup for spinning tunes. To your right were 2 couches and a futon mattress. There are people hanging out there. Behind to the right, beside the moving van, and behind the couches, was the kitchen. A few in there cooked and did cooler things. Directly in before you is a little dancing space, and the front entrace to Camp Curvas Peligrosas. There's a few people grooving and someone pulling up on a bike. Straight ahead and to the left a bit is a sweet 3 person bar, seats full, and space for a 'tender behind it. That bartender was usually J-Bird. But sometimes it was Darren, instead. Other times it wasn't even someone that was staying at our camp and on more than one occasion, I might have sat there, too. Though it wasn't really a job either, just a nice place to sit with easy access to the coolers and bottles and cozies and shot glasses that were needed to keep the crew sated throughout the day. When you sat there, you had to be on your toes. But only a little bit. But that's par for the course, in the desert. Behind the bar, was a ping-pong table covered in the necessary detrius of camp-life. Bloody mary mix. Cups. Random sunglasses and a wrench. Whatever might be needed was nearby. We used it all. Above were four large shade tents, keeping us all cool and breezy and happy. And by 'cool', I mean, not deadly, burning hot. But even so, still hot. And dry and dusty and new.

The sun got brighter and tighter and we guzzled water by the nalgene-full. There was no other way. Every beer was topped with an equal amout of water. Every shot, too. We lounged as new friends rolled up and others rolled out. A huge bike parking lot formed at the front edge of the camp. Eventually someone fired up the grill and soon the delicious scent of tri-tips filled the air. In the distance, up towards The Man, I saw the world covered in white and then a light breeze blew this way that got stronger and stronger, then everything blustered and flapped as a sandstorm blasted through, stinging into the shade tents and my eyes around the edges of my sunglasses.

"White out!" someone screamed, and everyone laughed.

"These things suck," I said to Lu, rubbing at my eyes. "I'm getting my goggles."

"Get mine too!" she requested and I did.

"We should get out of here," I said when I returned from the tent a few minutes later.

"You're right, there's so much we have to see."

"All of it," I replied as I strapped the goggles on. "Let's rock!"

7: Thieves

From the half buried blue head, we rode out into the playa. G's bike had a bell that he rang that made us crack up every time. I enjoyed riding up and then hanging right, looping around to come up behind our little foursome and then weave through the mini-pack. It was incredible to be on a bike beyond the middle of the night as the stars burned above and the world and tires spun beneath me.

Exactly like they say, you just never forget.

But somehow it seems they had forgotten where I was born. My parents told me it was at Hartford Hospital in the early 70's. But they have to be mistaken. Clearly, I was born here, on the playa. It just felt so right. My wife rolling beside me. The huge flatness around us, disruptive and captivating with it's deep distance. We were far from Curvas Peligrosas. A good forty minute bike-ride at a steady pedal. Pushing out, we were, into the places that I didn't even know existed. And that's exactly what I expected of the Burning Man, I realized as we rode hard into our first night out. I expected to see and hear and find and chase things I didn't even know existed. And I expected to use all the skills I had acquired in my thirty-one years to make sure we had the best time possible.

Ringringring went G's bell. A burst of laughter from my wife. Wags called us, "This way!" and we veered toward the light and the massive wooden structure looming before us.

I pedaled faster, racing ahead, then I looped left tight to take the world the other way and see them three coming at me. Lu wore goggles and rode the bike like she meant it; ready; steady; true. G was on a Sunday afternoon lollygag that just happened to be the playa. He grinned. Wags was one-handed, sipping a drink with the pink wig in the night as the light got brighter and we found the place she was aiming for.

It was a structure, somewhere out there. The curve of Black Rock City was far behind us, but there were many people about, out here. We ditched the bikes, balancing them together with Wags' on the ground next to ours.

Climbable art was in front of us and a fifty or sixty people were on it, near it or around it. The center structure was a large, open, curvaceous cylinder. We climbed a spiral staircase up the center. In the middle was a deck, about forty feet off the ground. At four corners, below on the ground, were smaller structures. Inside them were large wheels parallel to the ground. The wheels had spokes sticking out of them at about chest height. If a few people grabbed onto the spokes and starting turning it, pushing it along, the large wheel would turn a crank that would activate some large bands that were attached to some gears above our heads up on the deck, up where we were chilling. And if there were people in all four of the structure down below us on the ground, and if in all four of those little sheds they were turning the wheels, then the deck we were standing on forty feet above the ground would turn, steadily. We smoked a bowl up there rotating with some new friends we had just met, and we cheered the people down below as they worked to make our world spin. It was fun!

Eventually we went down to get our bikes, but there was only three of them there. Wags' bike had been stolen.

"Thieves suck," she said to us. And extremely fucking pissed off, the three of us agreed. The whole way back we were thunderstruck. It was so unbelievably sucky that someone would steal her bike.

"I can't believe it," Lu said, again.

"I know," Wags replied.

"Who does that?" I asked as I coasted, shaking my head.

"People are assholes," G finished.

"I just cannot believe someone stole your bike!"

"Assholes."

"We'll find it," said Lu, determined.

"We won't," I countered. "There's no way. There's just no way to find anything in this insanity."

"I really doubt we can find it," G agreed.

"The thing's already stripped," I replied. Wags had taken great care in crafting the style of her bike. Her boyfriend, G, had matched it, and now the black and white furry tiger fabric wrapped so loviningly around his frame, it seemed to mock the theivery we had just experienced.

"If you don't have a bike out here, you're done," Wags said as she trudged through the dust. She had refused our every offer because as it turned out, we weren't that far from camp. It just seemed like it.

The walk/ride still took a while, but we did it together. By the time we got back to camp, the sky was pinkening. We toasted the sunrise, then set up our tent. It took Lu and I five tries to find the perfect spot. But just to the side of our car, a bit behind the moving truck, near the shower, we banged in the rebar and inflated the mattress. There was only a few hours of tolerable temperatures left to sleep in.

As we tangled together and then dozed, Lu muttered to me, "I love you."

"I love you too," I replied, "but fuggin hate thieves."

"Umph-huh," she said into the pillow.

"Goonight," I replied, then slept. My dreams were filled with playa, and my restless sleep was dusty bliss.

6: Alone in the Dust, pt2

"WHO'S GOT MY WIFE!??? LUUULUUUU! WHERE YOU AT BABY?"

From the small group walking down the other side of the street I hear laughter.

"Yep," I say, as I weave towards them, "I lost my wife."

"Oh that sucks man," one of them says.

"It does. Specially on a night like this. I mean this was *the night*, ya know? And now here I am in the suburbs searching for her."

"Where'd ya lose her?" the woman with them asks.

"Out on the playa, near the Thunderdome."

"Well where were you going?"

"See now that's the problem," I reply. "I don't rightly know. I know we were going somewhere, but I was just following, and then I wasn't because they had vanished."

"So she's not alone?"

"No, thank god, she's with friends. Much better that I'm the one by myself. She'd be freaking right now if she was alone. She's probably freaking a little bit anyway, but still, it's better."

"Damn."

"I know. But now the question becomes this: do I just go out, have fun, hope to find them sometime in the night, or do I do what I'm doing."

"Which is?"

"Search for her. Go back to camp. Wait there for them to realize I'm lost and don't know where we are meeting up and hope they cruise back to find me?"

"Do you think they'll look there?"

"I'm really not sure. I mean the car slash camp is the *only* place that we both definitely know, for sure. If she got lost, it would be the place I would go to find her. But I'm really not sure if she can find her way back here, although my buddy, who's with her, I know he can. I guess I'm just hoping they figure it out and they come and find me."

"Don't do it."

"No?" I ask.

"No way. This is Burning Man, man. Just go. Have fun. You'll find her eventually or you won't and you'll see her in the morning, but don't just go sit at camp waiting for them. The only place you'll find them is out there on the playa. Have fun! Good luck!"

And then they peel off to the right down Catharsis, and I continue on.

My mind is in turmoil. I'm tripping pretty hard so that makes things slightly more interesting, and it's definitely part of the reason I lost them in the first place. With all the lights and sounds and insanity whirling by out there, on this level I'm on, it's just wild. There's an echo effect forming where the playa is the plane of my brain, and the all the people walking and wandering and biking are my idle thoughts. The artcars are concepts. Big ideas. Constructs of purpose that are useful for exploring the vast landscape of thought or just plain fun to be around. And then there's Man out there in the middle which is sort of me, my physicality, but He's gone now, just a scorching bonfire, and there's also the me in my head, that's the me right here riding my bike down the 4:30 spoke, the true light of consciousness, the reasoning, emotional soul tied to the arrow of time, moving forward only into the possibilities that emerge before me. I'm echoing my insides with the vastness without. It's exhilarating. But I want to find my fucking wife!

And since it's all mine, this whole playa, and since I love Lu so much and she me, I should be able to just concentrate hard and find the spot in my mind where I feel her, and then go there and find her on the playa. It would work, I know it, but then logic slithers free and I agree, that yes, the camp is the one true spot and eventually she'll find me there. I pedal on, deeper to the outskirts where it is dark and desolate and lonely. I toss the possibility of magic aside, and grab hold tight to the rough rope of reason.

I get to camp and ditch the bike hard. I stamp around calling for her. I talk to myself. I wander through the camp, get a beer, refill water, throw on another layer and spend ten minutes looking for another flashlight 'cause the headlamp's feeling dim, and more than anything right now, I need light. I need illumination! Will she come back here? How long do I stay? Could she even find it? This place is *dark*. If I stay long enough they'll finally get the idea, but that could be hours. And it's not like they know to meet me here. There are so many other places they could be, but which? Where? The Fringe? Green Gorilla Lounge? Out at the Bonfire that was once The Man? Perhaps that tower thing that first night where -- and then I holler in frustration, remembering.

"FUCKING THIEVES! YOU STOLE MY WIFE!" I shout at the unhearing stars, my fists balled in anger. Then I laugh and stamp my foot and shout, "WHO'S GOT MY WIFE!" and then inside I curse again all the hearts of thieves and I sit down hard, cross-legged, elbows on knees, palms on pouty cheeks, and I brood. "Fucking thieves," I mutter. "They stole my fucking wife," and then I thought back to that first night out on the playa where the actions of those asshole thieves set in motion this lonely night in the dust of Black Rock City.

5: The Wee Hours of Black Rock City

We turned right at the corner of 4:30 and Gestalt and rode up the spoke, inward, toward the sounds and the lights. Past Fetish, past Ego, past Desire, and on our left was a bar. Sure the tables out front were a bit raggedy, but inside there was a handful of people whooping it up at a long, wooden counter beneath shade tents and strung with lights. A generator grumbled from the darkness behind. I smiled as we rode by. It felt great to be on the bike, with our friends, heading for our first true taste of Black Rock City. Off to the right we'd passed some trampolines, and then there at the corner of 4:30 and Catharsis was a Roller Disco. Five or seven people were out there on their skates, crusing around to the sweet funky sounds.

Insanity on bikes wheeled by. Horns with glitter, goggles with flames, capes and fur and fully decked two-wheeled weirdness rolled by and around us as we pedaled inward. Past Bipolar, beyond Amnesia and I could tell we were getting close. It had taken us about fifteen minutes to roll from Curvas Peligrosas to the Esplanade where the true heart of Black Rock City began. Where open playa met camp. Where the inhabitants of this temporary city lived, strolled, rode and wandered with the night, beneath bursts of fire and amid the roar of artcars and the wheeling, weaving, wacky madness of all of us riding on the edges of our tires. On either side, the shape of the tents fell away, and before us in all directions lay the whirling, glow-dappled scene of humans at play.

First we rode to the right and soon found a mass of parked bikes. Beyond them people danced and spun as a dj pumped tunes into the throng. Poi dancers spun hulas of flames and ropes of fire. Thick, warm fur covered limbs and heads while cleveage and cracks and dilated eyes peeked from cool skin. There was a hypnotic feel to the crowd. It was a place between decisions, where the gravity of loud, chest thumping bass drew the shimmering forms of burners deep into their night. We slithered in to see what was going on. From a booth before us the dj twisted and spun then WOOOSH from above the booth a huge burst of flame exploded. The crowd murmured a cheer through their dancemoves. We wove in and out, getting closer, then chilling, then pulling back out to where we'd parked our bikes to see what else we could find.

I needed motion. I needed to see it all. So much out there! Artcars in the distance seemed to skate across the packed earth, skimming with light and sound as people on bikes circled and trailed, pulled by the thumping grooves of the twenty foot flower as it petaled across the dark desert. Music was the nectar that it sprayed across the flatness, drawing riders to it. I rode nearly sidesaddle as I watched the bizzare forms whisk by. The people on the bikes were caught in the wake of each new, motorized, music-filled alien form.

Then art surrounded us. Metal structures emanating heat curved up and around, the sheetmetal sides punched with tiny holes to create pictures and forms that glowed with the deep embers of the coals within. We stopped to warm ourselves from the chill playa wind. Then onward. Into the Blue Head. We had seen a picture of this online a few days before leaving, and now we were about to go inside.

Buried up to His nose, we circled once in wonder, then found the entrance at the back of his head. Inside was warm with twenty or so people splayed out together around the center hearth or resting against the walls, or just sitting, chilling out, warming up, thinking the thoughts together that Man's mind surrounding needed them to. The curved inside of the large skull seemed covered in brains. Plastic tubing and hanging fabrics made me feel as though I was within his mind. All of us were. And the only thing I thought we needed to truly make the mind correct, was a fresh, fragrant bowl of delicious buds. As it passed through us and then to the larger group, I could see those interested by the way they turned towards the smell, the eyes going bright and their smile sliding back easy. Everyone who wanetd got a taste.

"Careful with that. There's cops around and they will nail you for it," Wags informed me even as she took a hit.

"Gotcha," I replied. "I'll be stealthy."

"Bones..."

"Yeah baby?" I replied, turning to Lu.

"We have have to be careful out there, too. Don't lose me!"

"I won't! But the thing is, we have walkie talkies, so we don't have to worry about that, really. Just keep it tuned to the same channel, and if we ever get separated, we can just radio each other and meet up."

"That's true, but just stay close, okay? It's crazy out there!"

"I will baby," I replied and then kissed her. "There's no way I could lose you, ever."

4: Bikes

"Welcome to Black Rock City," Dex said to us and off we drove into the night. The wrong way. When we saw the sign for 6:30, we knew we had to turn around. I radioed for G and Wags again, the tenth time since we got in line, but we still hadn't heard back. They were probably already kneedeep in playa madness, but hopefully we'd at least find the camp. Otherwise it was going to be a long, interesting night. Dark, too. Moonless. A few people rode by bedecked in glow-sticks and rings but it was fairly desolate out there at the edge. Finally we found 4:30, hooked a left and then searched for Gestalt. A block in we found it and turned right.

"SLOW DOWN," Some one yelled at me, and sheepishly I complied. I had only been going 7mph, but he was right, I was kicking up mad dust. But dammit we had to find them! We drove down Gestalt till we hit 4 o'clock, turned left up the spoke, and then left again at Fetish, so that we were headed back towards 4:30 o'clock. They had to be somewhere in this square. The car barely lurched along at 2mph, but they were no where to be seen, and I was getting no response on the walkie-talkie. Back on the 4:30 spoke between Gestalt and Fetish, I made a choice. The car wasn't doin' it. We needed a more detailed approach.

"Let's ride," I said to Lu. "The camp could be just out there, in between the roads and we'd never see it from the car. On bikes we can weave in and out and search closer."

"Sounds good," she replied.

The entire ride I was afraid the bike rack attached to the trunk of our Honda Civic was going to fly off and demolish cars on its way to killing our bikes and people and everything. I'd heard horror stories of other softracks and I had no faith in ours. Turns out, that thing was on there and good. Took ten minutes of hard work to finally unstrap it and free our bikes.

So there it was, my bike. I hadn't ridden one in years before testing this thing out the previous Sunday when I went to follow-up on the craigslist ad. And now here it was on the playa, ready to go, handles tweaked just so, brakes and seat and tires fully inspected by my messenger friend, frame fully decorated in sequined fabric by my crafty wife Lu. She was ready, too. Standing over the frame, she looked awesome. Her bike looked awesome too. Hers was covered in a silver sparkle. My main theme was gold. Over the next few days, the playa would succumb to our legs and pedals and thick, rugged wheels, even as the sparkle succumbed to the dust. Headlamps, bike lamps, blinkly lights on the back. We had no glow and felt conspicuous with its absence. Into the night we rode for the first time, together, the playa grit kicking up behind us, our meager lights barely illuminating the way, and I thought about what this bike and I were about to do.

I knew the bike would be essential. It was made clear from the outset by Wags that without a bike, there was no way we were getting around. Finding the machine had been my biggest source of stress and worry for the few days leading up to our departure. At Burning Man, my bike became my prized possession, my toy, an amazing extension of me. Only one other device filled me with nearly as much happiness, but at the top, of course, was the bike. I loved the way we'd turned up the handlebar extenders, so I could kick back and cruise, and still hold on. I was thrilled with the way it held onto the sand, never spilling me. I was surprised by my ability to unzip the soft cooler strapped to the back rack, pull out a beer, crack it, drink it and return it to the cooler all without stopping the forward motion. The dusky reglowing meant each evening all our bikes had new visual configurations. I learned those configurations anew each night... how Wag's blinky blinked. How Lu's glow was strung through her spokes. The distinctive ring of G's bell as we rode across the playa, making it ours. The fastclick of the chain as backpedaled became a soothing sound. My only real problem was the seat. Days later, as a few of us walked around our 'hood, checking out Texas and the Stripper Pole and the place for Lapdance Lessons, I remarked to Steve how nice it was that there wasn't something being shoved up my ass, since you know, I was walking, for the moment, and not crammed onto that unforgiving seat. But by the time Sat night rolled around, and the day's libations and intoxications had their way with me, I was eager to hop on that seat again and own the playa as we had every night since we got there.

And right from the start, our bikes served us well. Our first ride was short, because halfway down Gestalt, between 4:30 and 4, I saw a sign on the right. The sign said Curvas Peligrosas and I shouted to Lu! The camp was on the other side of the street from where we had been looking. I thought it was going to be on the block bordered by Gestalt and Fetish. Instead, Camp Curvas Peligrosas was on the outer side of Gestalt. One block behind it was the final street, Hysteria.

We pulled into camp psyched to have found it, but then we were truly blown away, because sitting there on the couch were our two friends, G and Wags. They were with Vann who we didn't yet know, but the fact that there they were there, waiting for us, it was just unbelievable! That's what good friends do. They sit on the couch at midnight, waiting for over an hour as the madness of Burning Man churns all around them, just sitting there, knowing we're close and knowing that the only way the night can go great is if we all do it together. Lu and I were floored, flabbergasted and so appreciative. G and Wags gave big hugs and we loved it. Then it was time to get ready fast and then get out into the burning night.

We tried. We really did. But it just took us a while to: get the car, unpack the necessary containers, make drinks for the Nalgene bottle (which we call Festivus), don sparkely, crazy costumes, fill and strap on the soft cooler, get flashlights, drink a beer, fill other Nalgenes with water, strap on Lu's glorious silver basket ready to be filled with all the tools and madness and detrius of this Burn to come, go back for that thing we forgot, shout for joy again, do a shot, go back for the goggles, then again for the dustmask, open another beer, and then finally, finally FINALLY, the four of us got on our bikes and we rode into the night, up the spoke to the Esplanade where the gravity was strongest and the night was alight.

3: Virgins

The last 2 hours of the ride were brutal.

We're running the Gauntlet, I kept thinking to myself. 70mph, then 55, then 45, then 35 and I knew what was coming next. Mish and Siv's car was in front of ours, and their dim tail light concerned me. 25mph around the next turn and my fears were confirmed. Five-Oh. But they already had someone pulled over, and there was gear all over the side of the road as the officer played his flashlight across the exposed contents of their car. Exactly what I was afraid of, and we were only just starting this final piece of the trip. I knew they'd be out in force. There was no question of where everyone was going, and the chances of finding contraband in any number of the cars that passed through were... well, high. We rolled by exact, the speedometer pegged at the limit, eyes straight ahead. Next to me, Lu slept, nearly snoring. Before me my friends' bikes tires spun slow, hung tight to the bike rack. A glace in the rearview proved our bikes were still attached, too.

Beyond the miniscule town the limit rose to 35mph, then 45, then 55, the 70. Mish laid on the gas and the caravan sped away. I followed slightly more slowly.

Over the next 2 hours we did that again and again, barely dodging the cops as they search other cars. Finally we passed a sign: The End Is Near. I hooted with joy and it woke Lu up.

"Wha, how the where are we?"

"Almost there," I replied. "The end is near."

"Cool."

"You're telling me!"

Then around the curve and there it was. A squat Vegas. A flat city filled with light. In the distance to our right, the large curve of Black Rock City glimmered glowing in the dark, moonless night.

Pulling in they checked for stowaways, thoroughly. Then came the rules from our new friend Dex.

"Alright, so in the portapotties, only the 4 Ps: Piss, Poop, Paper and Puke. Nothing else. And please don't empty your grey water into them. This is the 5th vendor they've used and if we can't use them next year, there may be no Burning Man. Let's see, so do you have any video cameras, if so you need to register them."

"We don't," I replied.

"Okay, I guess that's it..."

"Well actually, could you tell us where we'd find 4:20 and Gestalt?"

And then his eyes went wide. "Wait a second, does that mean..."

"It does," I replied, grinning.

"Alright then! You're my first ones of the year! Out of the car and come with me!"

We unbelted and stepped out, the car idling but parked. Together Lu and I followed Dex a few steps and then there it was: The Bell.

"Ring it!" He demanded, laughing.

And we did. This time we were Burning Man Virgins. After this week, we never would be again.

2: Alone in the Dust

So we walk because our bikes are far away, and there's no way to have the bikes out here amid the Burn madness. Spun spit out from the whirling dervish forming around the now-bonfire, we walk across the hard playa, soft dust clinging to every molecule of air. All week we've inhaled it. After the first day out there it felt like tiny gnomes were sandpapering my nostrils and using pickaxes on my lips. I am chapped, facially, thoroughly. And we walk.

There's dome we find to chill in for a bit and it seems my companions are slightly worn. Or maybe relaxed. But not me, I'm raring to go. The twenty minutes we spend laid out in the dome are but a moment of recharge in already thoroughly charged night. There were beers and shots and delicious strips of steak back at camp as the sun went down. There was a tiny piece of paper Lu and I split, staring into one another's eyes. And now the effects are fully taking hold. I need to get out into the glowburn hotnight, and I tell them, hopping from foot to foot. They untangle, their rally slow and steady.

Back out on the playa we make our way towards the Thunderdome. Giddy and loose, I climb high on the dome, and wait for the fights to begin. I see Lu and G and Wags below me and out across the flatness I see the firey breath of the Angry Robot. Hear the chooooo of the ghostly Playa Train trundling though the darkness. Directly below me, they've given a woman the mic, and suddenly she begins to sing. A breeze of silence blows through the porous dome and tiny flecks of dust vibrate with her virbrato. She sings opera and we are all spellbound. Then comes mashing and swinging and boffo fighting between eager strangers. We shout and rattle and hoot and scream as they are strapped in and pulled back and then launched at one another down below to our raucous glee. Finally it's time to move. I climb down to regroup and we're close to our bikes.

Gathering them I give Lu another layer for her cape, that I had been wearing as a long sparkely skirt. She ties it around her neck. She and G and Wags begin to ride. I turn my bike around to follow and in that instant they are gone. The Playa Gods have swallowed them whole. They have vanished into the silt and packed earth and swirling glownight dust storm mob scene.

I'm dumbstruck, alone. I have no idea where we were heading, I was merely following. Distracted by the endless humanity and insane sights of the night playa Burn, I lost focus and was left behind. I ride up a ways calling for my wife and friends. I ride back to the spot where I lost them. I ride in circles, hoping to see them return. But they have shifted on, changed planes, moved into a different circle of night, one I know I'll never catch hold of again. I stop, deciding. Where do I go? How will I find them? Why is there no meeting spot!?

Then I know, the only thing I can do is go back to the beginning. Like Inigo in the Princess Bride, I do what Vicinni said to do when things went bad... you go back to the beginning.

Pedals beneath my feet. Goggles strapped on tight. Cape flying behind me. Gold lamay shirt glittering in the glownight, I ride back and deep and in to the only place I think Lu might be able to find me, and as I ride, wondering if this is right choice, I think of everything that has gone before to bring me to this now-broken night out here in the deep reaches of the endless playa, alone for once, I ride through the dust, back to the beginning.

1: Afterburn

The burn had been thrilling.

Deep fire high in the night as myriad glow-forms of fellow humans glittered in the flickering light, shadows dancing sharp against the Black Rock playa, as we hooted and roared and cheered for the crashing, splintering, exploding form of The Man that had spun at the center of our Psyche all week. Before us all He burned and together, again, we were released.

The burn blew nightheat hotbreeze against our sunburnt skin. Above us a billion stars churned. One of them had to be the place we had once come from. But out here on the flat reaches of the playa, the earth was but a distant memory.

The crowd had raced in as He came down and then a whirlpool mob began to shuffle then jog then run around the roaring form of what had once been. We jogged along, then split out, eager to find the rest of the night and whatever beautiful madness we could discover. There was much to see, as always.