Getting back to the “Real World” post-Burning Man takes a little more effort than expected.
After a week of “oontz oontz” dubstep, sandstorms, no real concept of time, and living in a tent, normal things such as clean clothes, showers, and stores that don’t require you to climb a three-story scaffolding for “payment” takes its own getting used to.
The big thing when I got home was getting my rental car clean again. It was caked with dirt, and conventional washing doesn’t quite work. The alkaline dust really does stick to everything, and standard soap and water doesn’t cut it. It took three professional cleanings to get the car looking back to normal before I could present it to the rental place. Otherwise, the car looked like it had run rampant through a sandcastle convention.
When I got back, it was time for a paranormal investigation with my ghost group. Some private residence. I’m still mixed as to if anything was really in the house, but there was a weird theory that the family’s kid might have been the ghost. Seriously. The kid’s room was utterly immaculate like a shrine, and no pictures of the kid were posted past 2006-2007. If it hadn’t been for the kid having the latest version of Halo on his computer, that little factoid would be have been more creepy than any ghost.
Other than that, I was covering more shows, such as The Mentalist, and Divas with Frank Marino:
I also went to the pre-opening of Goretorium at Planet Hollywood. It was meant as more of a “private” event, but the word got out on Facebook, and everyone showed up.
That in itself caused drama, as they started turning people away, and there was a few fake review related scandals associated with the place. I did, however, manage to get past the red velvet rope and go inside for a free tour of the place.
The haunt was pretty interesting, all things considered. After working a few of these haunts now, I’m used to how these things go, and it was done well enough, and honestly, the Strip needs something “themed” after they closed down Star Trek a few years back.
But it was alright. I think the prices need to be adjusted, and having a unisex bathroom is a little awkward for those unprepared, but trust me, after a week out in the desserts of Black Rock, very little phases you after that.
Speaking of which, there was a “Burner” related event (anything in quotes this entry should be met with skepticism, I learned) at the end of the month out at a place called Kingman Wash. On my birthday, no less. It was supposed to be what they call a “decompression” (this one is okay; it’s merely terminology). Decoms are a way for Burners to kind of blend in a little more of the free-wheeling kooky back into their lives after going from one extreme of fire spinning and art cars to the more subdued day to day of jobs, responsibilities, etc. Decoms are there to provide a little middle ground in case your mind and heart are still not mentally ready or able to leave “home”. My experience overall was good, so a chance to play with my friends for another night sounded just fine.
The feds came.
A lot of feds came.
And it wasn’t the 4-5 ranger SUVS, there were police boats. A lot of them. And they wanted everyone out right that second. So it was a bunch of people stumbling around in the dark, rushed, and some not in the best of mental states to even be attempting tear-down. But tear-down was going to happen regardless, as the red and blue lights resonated from the police boats, and the loudspeakers blared to get everyone out. Turned out, the whole thing was set up without any previous authorization from the park lands, so it was all a big “no no”, and it was time to get out before potential arrests were made. With no gas in the car and pitch black, the escape was made.
Happy birthday to me….
So in getting there, setting the tent up on a nice little hillside overlooking the lake, cooking dinner, getting a few drinks, dancing with friends, and just ready to have a fun night out on my birthday….