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Burning Man: The Sequel (Second Debris Burn)

Posted by marnie on September 8, 2013 Burning Man

I went to Burning Man for my second time this year. Shut up. YES, they let me back in.  And, where last year my impetus was a lofty, deep, spiritual, selfless and loving one – to survive, this year my goal was not only as profound as last year’s, BUT with one addendum to the goal of living through it – to do so with shorter than last year’s-port-o-potty-length hair.

Yep, you wouldn’t be the first one to accuse me of depth.

So, last year, when I was quietly (yeah, right) concerned only about my life, I may perhaps have only feigned slight caring about what my husband wore. I may have also, allegedly, possibly, thumbed up housedresses ‘n heels that just may not have been, if asked under oath, his color.  This year, as I knew more than likely I was going to live through the 4 days (please note: this is one more day than last year’s 3), I decided I could afford some actual attention on my man.  So this time around, when I went with him to Goodwill (Danbury, Stamford and Westport), I was an inch more loving and did not even let him purchase one mu mu.  This year, I dictated cut off shorts, army boots and hip hats.

Deep and selfless am I.

And, this time, not only did I live through another Burning Man/Mom, BUT, as far as I know, my faux woolen dreadlocks did not dip in the potty.

I rode my bike around, smiling at the mere fact that even I did not know I suffered last year, as this year’s weather was amazing.  Who knew that fur coats, winter gloves, hot chilis and hats were not always a given. That my bicycle riding skills did not to have to include deep sand maneuvering and oy veying.  I am also uncertain as to whether the portable bathrooms were actually better this year OR that I was just so happy to not have thigh length hair to worry about that I was delusional. I mastered not smelling upon entering and often times not looking into the potty upon arrival. Yes, the mantra of don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, may have helped.

Below, I’ll admit to several more burn induced deep thoughts:

  1. Warm coconut water tastes like what I imagine ear juice might.
  2. The ingrained lesson to flush the toilet is hard to let go of.
  3. Toilet paper alone is not enough.
  4. Baby wipes, though possibly not very green to dispose of, are important and a gift from god.  As is a toothbrush and face wipes.
  5. Do not rely solely on fun hair to be fun.
  6. Makeup is an acceptable crutch to rely on if you want to look better in close up photos.
  7. Come out of your head to play.
  8. Nyquil’s cousin, Zzzquil, is your friend. Re-entry, not so much.
  9. Remember, no matter how much you pack, you will wear the same two outfits.  So, uh, maybe, next time, if you are invited back, pack less than fifteen.
  10. Be kind to your family (actual and extended).  Not just on holidays. Indeed, they ARE the best built in best friends who know you, forgive your quiet, have your back, a handy Ziploc bag in case you throw up and don’t want to leave MOOP (Matter Out of Place) on the Playa, need your extensioned hair held, push you hard so you don’t throw up on your one of two outfits you will actually wear, applaud for you and are truly, deeply inspired by you when you get up and party post Playa puking all over again.

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