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.