Arrival in San Francisco
I made it through the wee hours of Sunday morning at Burning Man. Sunday itself was filled with packing. I don’t believe I left camp all day. I was engulfed by thoughts of home. Though I had a fantastic trip, I began to look forward to the changes I would make to my life as a result of the inspiration and energy derived from Burning Man.
Slowly, we disassembled the beautiful camp we had build – tents, shade structures – even moop – and crammed it into the cars. Vinay and I took down our tent and made a pile of things by the car. Mary napped for much of the day, as she would be driving later that night. She later went off to visit the temple one last time by the light of day, as it was set to burn that night.
Before I knew it, it was dusk and time for the final burns: the Temple, a memorial pagoda, and the infamous Waffle house. The Pagoda was dedicated to the memory of a group of Seattle raver kids who had been senselessly shot and killed by a man they befriended one evening at a party. Friendship for death is certainly a sad bargain.
We ambled over to the playa in a large group, but we were soon scattered. Zach had left the day before, Erin and Danny left earlier that morning, as had Giles and a few other Chicago boys. Mary, Max, Adam and myself gave out the remainder of Erin’s buttons, some of the blowpops, and some wine. Erin’s buttons were brilliant – I heart robots, I screw robots, and some nonsequiturs from magazines.
Finally, we sat down on the playa to watch the Pagoda and then the temple ignite. The flames at the pagoda were hot – hotter than the man. Perhaps I was just in the path of the wind, or perhaps they allowed people closer to the Pagoda than they had to the man. We moved to view the temple. The temple burn was preceded by a rather mournful female opera singer – whom Brian dislikes immensely, so I hear from Max. As I mentioned before, the temple burn was much more solemn than that of the man, which had been celebratory. People cried. I did not feel as if I had a spiritual experience during the temple burning. I did not try to create one, as I did during the burning of the man. There’s always next year, but I also do not think that one needs to necessarily be personally moved to enjoy the temple burn.
The final item on the burning agenda for the evening was the Waffle House. Rumor had it that the House wasn’t built on a burn tarp, that it wasn’t soaked with gasoline and would thus take forever to burn – but I think it managed nicely. While we waited for it to be lit, the giant Venus flytrap and flower art cars made from cherry pickers engaged in a sort of battle dance in front of it. As the flytrap lowered itself to the ground, a man hung a trapeze from one of its teeth and began contorting in the air as the massive robotic plant rose and fell.
After such a display, the burn was almost an afterthought, but it did not disappoint. The Waffle House was lit in several places. It glowed, then slowly gained momentum as the fire spread and hit various deposits of what I was told was sodium. Eventually, the internal structure collapsed and it came roaring to the ground – in two parts. Watching large objects burn and collapse reminded me a bit of September 11. But the purpose and intent of these burns is so different than that of the WTC attacks that I cannot keep that mindset for long.
Max made an interesting observation about the flytrap and flower art cars. They were not the bleeding edge of Burning Man innovation, he said. That edge lived in the minds of the crowd, as others thought of how they could perhaps top that display next year.
After the burns, we trudged back to camp and slid into the car – Mary at the wheel, Vinay up front to keep her awake with his chatter, and myself and Adam Leeds in a sleepy heap in the back. Adam was getting sick and I was merely exhausted. I had been falling asleep at the Temple Burn and violently jerking awake. We said our last goodbyes, I used the porta potties one last time, and we hit the road.
I was asleep until just outside of Reno, where we parked in a garage and ate “breakfast” at 4 am at the Circus Circus casino. We were covered in dust, as were many of the other cars we spotted. Two girls in the restroom at Circus Circus asked Mary and me if we had been to Burning Man. “How was it?” they inquired after we said that we had. “Great – glad to hear it.” They were clad in teeny bopper tank tops and jeans. They had probably seen dozens of Burners pass through their city, either that weekend or in years past. And yet I was certain that they had no real conception of what went on just outside their city limits.
After eating, we tried valiantly to find a room for the night – but to no avail. Burners and Labor Day merry makers filled all of the rooms in the vast City of Concrete. The spotlessly clean and nearly empty streets, traffic lights and neon stood in such contrast to the bustling organic landscape of Black Rock City. I was overwhelmed. The weather there must have been so predictable – under a parking garage I spotted paper files, protected from the outside air by nothing more than a wire fence. Amazing.
After we failed to find lodging in Reno or Sparks, we decided to drive on. I sat up front with Mary and stayed awake, for the most part, as we crossed the California-Nevada border. As we entered California, the sun rose behind us, illuminating the mountains with a warm, life-affirming glow. Beautiful. I simply must spend more time exploring nature in this part of the country.
We eventually stopped at a rest stop on the side of the road somewhere in eastern California and slept in the car. To be precise, Mary, Vinay and I slept in the car and Adam Leeds graciously pulled his sleeping bag out and slept on the ground in the parking lot. What’s one more night on the ground, he rightly reasoned. The rest of us in the car were contorted around our worldly possessions, the seats, and the dirt that encased our bodies. In about 4 hours, the sun was shining, our bladders beckoned us to the bathroom, and Mary received a call from her friend Laura back east. We stopped once more on the road to San Francisco – at In-N-Out Burger in the same West Sacramento shopping center that we’d stopped at for Wal Mart and Home Depot on the way out. I didn’t realize that they, too, had bible verses on their paper goods. I really need to stop patronizing such places. Still, the food was tasty. Eventually, we hit crisp, autumnal San Francisco. Our journey was nearly over.
We unloaded some of the items from the car while Adam took the first shower. Mary and I ran down to the beach at the edge of the Presidio and stood barefoot in the cool, clear water. Actually, it was freezing, but it was the most refreshing beach water that I have ever encountered. We gazed at the expanse of blue and discussed personal happiness, our complete satisfaction with the trip and our excitement as to where our lives would take us in the coming years. I was so content – though of course I looked forward to telling everyone back home about my trip and to seeing Ben.
Back at Mary’s apartment, I called my parents and then Ben, separately, to rave about the trip and to try to give them some idea, somehow, of everything wonderful that I experienced. But I had more important things to do – like shower and pack up for the plane.
My shower in Mary’s apartment was phenomenal. I admit I was a bit of a glutton – I monopolized the bathroom for nearly an hour. I washed my hair twice. Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap felt very tingly on my parched skin. The entire journey out of BRC felt like climbing up out of a deep valley by our fingernails – rewarding, but a challenge. After my shower, I reasoned that I was still about 2 showers away from being truly clean (more moisturizing, followed by exfoliation and leg shaving), but I was well on my way.
I spent the rest of the day packing up my things for the plane. I was interrupted only by our Thai dinner with Vaughn. I ordered too much crazy noodle soup filled with too much unidentifiable meat – but it was otherwise quite tasty. I packed my bag late into the night as Mary, her roommate Sarah, and a new friend giggled on the couch and perused DVDs. I finished packing at around 1 am and collapsed on their sumptuous down sofa.
The morning was merely a flurry of activity to get to the airport. I had to strategize to get Vinay’s new purchases into our luggage so that he and I did not have more than two pieces of checked luggage each. We stopped at an ATM on the way to the airport and I was so zonked that I actually left my card in it – something I’ve never done before. I was so unaccustomed to the machine after a week in the desert. Plus, it was the kind that eats your card and I haven’t used those since college. I realized the card was missing when Vinay and I arrived at the airport and I went to my wallet to get out my driver’s license for the security check in. I called Bank of America and they were immediately able to cancel the card and put a new one in the mail.
Vinay and I grabbed a snack after check in and security and then boarded the plane. As I wrote before, I had intended to finish this journal and then take a nap, but we spent the entire ride discussing Burning Man amongst ourselves and with two other passengers who had attended. When we got to JFK, we fetched our luggage. I called my parents and then called Ben. We split a cab to downtown Manhattan. I got home near midnight and removed the items that I’d need for work the next day. I showered and went to bed tired, but unbelievably happy from my long desert adventure.