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.