Farther along the esplanade, myself and the Captain realized why we liked burning man so very much. We actually agreed on something for once! I know, this doesn't sound like anything special, but for those of you who have actually met us, you know we never agree on anything. For some bizarre reason though, out there it was the total opposite, as if the fates had conspired for the both of us to go home this year (and by home, I mean Black Rock City.) We laughed like the half drunk playa cruisers we were on our way out to the man that night, stopping at every art station we could find in between. After what seemed like most of the night (which in reality was probably only about a half hour or so,) we finally made it all the way over to the 3:00 plaza and the ranger station within. We ran into Sasquatch first, over by his bus. He directed us to the trash can that was full of beer (yaaaay! beeeer!) and then we found seats and had a nice chat with Rangers Beauty, Lady Frog, Sasquatch, and Magpie. It was Magpie's first year as a ranger and only the second year on the playa. To her, I raise my glass and salute.
After we had a few beers in our systems, myself and Captain Tuesday set out for center camp. Now I had this genius (*note: sarcasm is to be noted) idea to walk across the unpacked open esplanade. We finally made it to center camp after what seemed like eternity (and trust me, our feet were feeling it,) and finally got to sit down. I must admit, although it was much more painful to sit down and take the weight off of my feet, it felt so nice after doing playa seal training on the long walk there. Now this is where the sad weepy part of the story takes place (not for me mind you, see my last post.) I found a very funny thing in center camp that night, and it hangs on my fridge at this moment. It was a picture of Dick Cheney with his normal scowl (personally, I don't think its physically possible for that man to smile,) and he had left a very nice note. It read "Hey burner, go fuck yourself." I got a nice laugh out of it, and of course had to take it back to camp to bring home with me. I drank whatever drink I had in my water bottle with Tuesday as we relaxed in center camp. I lost my water bottle that night, but hey, its just a nalgene.
Earlier in the day, at I'd say about 11 in the morning, Tuesday went to a fire staff making class. He made what looked like an awesome staff (and trust me, I wanted to light it up.) While we were at center camp that night, I left before Tuesday did as I was about to pass out in the seat there. Tuesday said he left about 20 minutes after I did, and made it about a block and a half before he realized that he had forgotten his staff (NEVER leave a fire toy unattended at Burning Man.) By the time he made it back to where he had left it at center camp, it was gone, never to return. The next morning, once Tuesday woke up, he proceeded to tell me of his epic fail. I informed him of my opinion, but assured that I would help him try to find it throughout the rest of the week.
Soon after my conversation with Tuesday, I found myself in the center of a fucking reptile zoo. And somebody had coated everybody with dust! This was truly a journey to the savage heart of the American dream. I found affirmations of everything right and true in the American dream, but that dream is only for those with true grit. And I assure you, I am fucking chock full of that man!
In the next issue: Mongoose remembers exactly why the fuck he went to this super harsh desert environment.
Until then, my quote for Wednesday:
"The Playa wookie is real!!!!"
Burn, Baby, Burn