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        Virtual 
          Burning Man - Travel Without Tickets 
        
          
          Ranger Rigged (photo by John 
          Brennan Photography) 
         
        Burning Man 2000 
          
          
        
         
        
           
            Pre-Feral  | 
            Feral  | 
           
           
            | You brush your teeth every morning before 
              breakfast. | 
            Whatever you pick out of your teech in the 
              morning IS breakfast. | 
           
           
            | You can't wait to wash the dust out of your 
              hair. | 
            You cake mud in your hair and shape it into 
              a cool style. | 
           
           
            | Your clothes are full of dust. | 
            Your clothes are stuck to you. | 
           
           
            | You prepare a hot meal for dinner. | 
            You eat a stale cheeseburger and cold fries 
              that someone left sitting out since lunchtime. | 
           
           
            | You have a cool tattoo. | 
            You have a cool tattoo on your face. | 
           
           
            | You carefully wash your hands and eating 
              utensiles before a meal. | 
            What utensiles? Playa dust is a condiment. | 
           
           
            | You wear shiny platform sneakers. | 
            You can't remember the last time you wore 
              shoes. | 
           
           
            | You go to Burning Man to get freaky. | 
            You've read the newspapers. Reality Camp 
              is the real freakshow. | 
           
         
         
        AfterBurn 
        My lips are seriously sunburnt 
          -- dry and cracked like the alkaline  
          plane that is the canvass for the art of living that Burning Man is. 
           
          I'm two shades darker than when I left. My stuff if full of playa  
          dust -- It will never completely wash away. 
           
          I have memories of a beautiful race of people who live in the  
          desert. They decorate their bodies with paints and colored lights  
          and dance to strange music that emanates from behind surreal images 
           
          on a large video screen.  
           
          Just behind me, people are skating in an open-air roller-disco while 
           
          just down the street people are playing chess with three-foot  
          wrought-iron pieces shaped like aliens -- glowing, like the  
          chessboard, under black-lite. 
           
          I can hear the distant chants from the Thunderdome where contestants 
           
          are strapped in their harnesses doing battle with foam weapons. 
           
          I watched fire-spinners showering sparks of burning steel-wool in  
          magic spirals of golden light. 
           
          I danced with fire along the Esplanade. I can still hear the whoosh 
           
          of the flames as I twirled my flaming staff so close to my bare skin 
           
          that the heat of it was like a caress. 
           
          A dragon rolls by belching flame. It has a bar, a strip club, and a 
           
          disco in separate sections linked together by welded sheets of steel 
           
          scales. It picks up a few passengers and rolls out across the open  
          desert, roaring with fire and vibrating to techno beats. 
           
          I Rangered again this year and was on the emergency medical crew. I 
           
          treated hypothermia, referred a food poisoning, cared for victims of 
           
          a cupola furnace explosion that sprayed them with molten iron. 
           
          I fell in love -- several times.  
           
          I almost froze to death. 
           
          I endured hurricane winds, freezing rain, thick mud, hot sun, sleep 
           
          deprivation. 
           
          I listened to one of the 43 radio stations in town while eating  
          granola cereal with Rice Dream and watching the sun rise pink  
          and orange over the Jackson Mountain Range. 
           
          The Man burned. The Rangers partied. I packed and came home. 
           
          In a few weeks, there will be no trace of Black Rock City except in 
           
          memories and photographs. The desert will be the same as it was a  
          quarter-million years ago. 
           
          I will never be the same. 
          
         
        Mortality 
        The sun rises over the Jackson 
          range. 
          In what seems like minutes, sixy-five 
          Becomes ninety-five degrees. 
          Forhead burns like being sliced by a laser 
          Out ahead the vast expanse of emptiness 
          Seen through whisps of dust 
          Like the ghosts of ancestors. 
          Just over my shoulder, the Grim Reaper 
          His scythe raised, waiting... 
         
        Extremes (Getting Psyched) 
        
        Extreme Heat 
          Extreme Winds 
          Extreme Noise 
          Extreme Quiet 
          Extreme Art 
          Extreme Emptiness 
          Extreme Sensory Deprivation 
          Extreme Sensory Overload 
          Extreme Community 
          Extreme Solitude 
          Extreme Exhaustion 
          Extreme Sleep Deprivation 
          Extreme Partying 
          Extreme Commitment 
          Extreme Joy 
        
          
        
        
        
          
        
          
         
          
         
        Your host taking a break. 
          Photo by Jim Bowers 
          '98 
         
        Part 1 -- 
          The Ranger Orientation Meeting 
          Part 
          2 -- Exploding Man '98 
          Part 
          3 -- Afterburn 
          Part 
          4 -- Drowning Man '98, The Death of Faddah or "Aim for The Hat" 
         
          
         
        Burning 
          Man '97  
         Why is Burning 
          Man important to me? 
          Why would someone spend so much time and money on airline tickets and supplies to spend a few days in a brutal 
          desert environment to do hard and sometimes dangerous work on behalf 
          of a bunch of total strangers? 
        I do it because I can be myself 
          there. 
        
        
        
        
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