We started back out the road, and I called the wifeykins to let her know we were heading back. And then we were on the road and heading south.
Now it took us at least four hours from Frisco to get to Sierraville, but the way back was much faster. It ended up taking us only about seven hours. We ended up needing gas about an hour or so out and it was there that I got some burger king goodness. Back on the road we chatted and I tried to get to the root of my buddies beliefs versus the rhetoric he had been spouting like a religious zealot for most of the time he had been here. It was weird, but every time I asked him what he thought, he would respond with something from one of the sites and/or the odd little newspaper he gave me from Vermont. So I asked and asked for awhile till we got through his dogma and got to the meat of his wants and fears and needs. It was the same as anyone’s hopes and fears in this country, let alone this world and age. He was just passionate about the delivery.
As we got closer to the 101 freeway we started to see those huge warehouses that store different items and the trucks back up to them and load up. But these weren’t loading trucks. These were sitting there gathering dust and lease signs. Every third one was for sale or lease and the trucks backed up to the ones still owned by someone were few and far between. In a side that would hold at least thirty to forty, maybe even fifty trucks, there were only about ten or so. Then when we hit the 101 freeway we saw even more business properties for sale then we had so far. It was a seriously sad showing of the economy of our state and our country and to see it drove that home to us much better then figures or forecasts ever could.
We hit Paso and found the Wal-Mart parking lot and parked and waited for the wifeykins to arrive and get me. Duder decided to take a shower, have a rolling house will travel, and so I waited for a bit with sporadic forays through the parking lot to search for them. Little did I know, they were there waiting in the car over by the side area, a kind of out of the way spot where I didn’t check at all. About forty minutes later I saw the wifeykins cruising the parking lot and had to chase her a bit till she saw me. She let me know she had been there for quite sometime and I packed the stuff into the car. Duder gave the littlest kidling an electrical toy that he was loving the last time we saw them and I gave duder a hug goodbye. We got into the car, and away we went. To home, and to a tasty Chinese buffet.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Last Huzzah Part 11
So we talked, and soaked, and talked some more, and then it was time to boogey back to the RV. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. So I headed back and got ready for bed. My buddy walked back with me and he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. I puttered around and arranged stuff and then passed out as well. Before I did though I set my alarm for 8:30 in the am as I was wanting to get some grub before we left. So I set the watch, doffed my glasses, and to sleep I went.
The next day duder made breakfast before I was even really conscious, so I awoke to the smells of eggs and oranges and tasty treats. As I was waking up he was already in the driver’s seat and had wolfed down his food. I got dressed, got semi awake, and was getting my boots on when he started up the RV and was ready to go. He had a prior dinner engagement at around six in the PM that night so he was all for splitting as soon as possible. He kept asking about whether I was going to eat or not and I told him to go ahead and drive on over to the office and check out. I put the yogurt and the eggs and all away in the fridge and got in the front seat. I was following through from my vow the night before to not eat any of his food. And I didn’t for the rest of the trip. He ended up eating the rest of my food, except for the yogurt as it was in the fridge. I don’t think he knew where it was.
I wanted to have breakfast at the philosophy café as the cook from the night before wasn’t going to be cooking and a full stomach for the road is a must have. But it was not destined to be. So I got a few scones from the office area, and went down to the café to pay for them. The dude doing the cooking tried like hell to get me to eat there as the road is ever longer when hungry, but I couldn’t as the buddy was chomping at the bit. So scones in tow we set off for the wild blue yonder.
The next day duder made breakfast before I was even really conscious, so I awoke to the smells of eggs and oranges and tasty treats. As I was waking up he was already in the driver’s seat and had wolfed down his food. I got dressed, got semi awake, and was getting my boots on when he started up the RV and was ready to go. He had a prior dinner engagement at around six in the PM that night so he was all for splitting as soon as possible. He kept asking about whether I was going to eat or not and I told him to go ahead and drive on over to the office and check out. I put the yogurt and the eggs and all away in the fridge and got in the front seat. I was following through from my vow the night before to not eat any of his food. And I didn’t for the rest of the trip. He ended up eating the rest of my food, except for the yogurt as it was in the fridge. I don’t think he knew where it was.
I wanted to have breakfast at the philosophy café as the cook from the night before wasn’t going to be cooking and a full stomach for the road is a must have. But it was not destined to be. So I got a few scones from the office area, and went down to the café to pay for them. The dude doing the cooking tried like hell to get me to eat there as the road is ever longer when hungry, but I couldn’t as the buddy was chomping at the bit. So scones in tow we set off for the wild blue yonder.
The Last Huzzah Part 10
Now at Sierraville hot springs the “quiet” rule really is in effect. No dogs are allowed, no loud noises, no cheering, no real expression of any kind, but they project a healing and tranquil environment. Tranquil it is, but for me at least, and possible for others as well, the tranquil bit is cool, but the yelling and laughing bit is sometimes quite meditative as well.
Now since they had a “no pets” policy I was a little on edge about the buddies psycho dog. Not the dog is a sweetie, little nutty, but a sweetie all the same. But he has a bizarre habit of, for no reason I might add, freaking out on passerby’s and objects in the road. Even objects on the side of the road. Even objects up the road. And he would freak out in the most vocal way right in my ear. Great dog, but as far as training goes not much on the manners angle. They had only had him for a month or so and he’s a German shepherd lab mix. Looks like its lab all over, especially the head and color, and a German Shepherd back end, especially around the hips. Good looking dog, and he was fun to have on the trip, but he was a kook. A lovable kook. So every time he started in with his barking I would yell “FUCK!!” out in tune to his barking. That started in Frisco, but as we went further on our adventure I began to do it when he least expected it. It was slightly exciting and always caused a laugh.
So back to the pool. Wouldn’t ya know it, as soon as I get in the pool and start chatting there were multiple people that had been to burning man. One guy, who wanted us to know that he was a geologist really badly, said he had gone ten years in a row. He said that when you go to burning man in the first ten minutes you’ll see things you didn’t know could exist, and thing that you wished you didn’t know existed. I’ll be using my stopwatch to count the minutes when I get there.
Now since they had a “no pets” policy I was a little on edge about the buddies psycho dog. Not the dog is a sweetie, little nutty, but a sweetie all the same. But he has a bizarre habit of, for no reason I might add, freaking out on passerby’s and objects in the road. Even objects on the side of the road. Even objects up the road. And he would freak out in the most vocal way right in my ear. Great dog, but as far as training goes not much on the manners angle. They had only had him for a month or so and he’s a German shepherd lab mix. Looks like its lab all over, especially the head and color, and a German Shepherd back end, especially around the hips. Good looking dog, and he was fun to have on the trip, but he was a kook. A lovable kook. So every time he started in with his barking I would yell “FUCK!!” out in tune to his barking. That started in Frisco, but as we went further on our adventure I began to do it when he least expected it. It was slightly exciting and always caused a laugh.
So back to the pool. Wouldn’t ya know it, as soon as I get in the pool and start chatting there were multiple people that had been to burning man. One guy, who wanted us to know that he was a geologist really badly, said he had gone ten years in a row. He said that when you go to burning man in the first ten minutes you’ll see things you didn’t know could exist, and thing that you wished you didn’t know existed. I’ll be using my stopwatch to count the minutes when I get there.
The Last Huzzah Part 9
“Man I’m friggin hungry. Do you have any bread duder?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Any crackers man?”
“Nope.”
“Oh well. Guess I’ll have another bowl of soup then.”
“Man! What are you doing?!!?? You eat soo much man!”
Slight confusion now as most of the food I had eaten I had either bought on the road or had brought. So I decided that I was done and had had enough.
“Alright man. I won’t eat any more of your food then man. I have nuts or something in my backpack man. Just go soak man, just go soak.” And I punctuated my non eating his foodness with an umpire “he’s safe” arm scissor thingy.
At this point he was standing over by the door and as I was looking in my bag o’ food I usually have on me and he began the cursing and the freak out, which had held off for a bit this time, came in full force.
“Well fuck you man. No, fuck you man, fuck you. Just fuck you man, no man fuck you.” And he went along that vein for a bit. I was looking at him thinking what exactly had brought this on, but I figured since his ear hurt him he was allowed. I tried to interject a bit to figure out what exactly he was going on about, but he would talk over me with a “Fuck” or two and I just let him wind down. I said “Alrighty man.” and he took off for the geodesic dome pool.
I sat there for a bit, shaking my head mostly, and then I ate some nuts that I have in my backpack and then I poured myself a rum and coke. I drank my drink, smoked a bit of the old frop, and decided that I would head on over to the pool myself.
The walk is about a mile or so, maybe a little less, and it winds around the front through the hot springs area along the long drive from the service road leading up to it. It was quiet, peaceful, and not at all like what had occurred in the RV. I let the night consume me, enfold me, and embrace me as I walked through the trees and along the lighted path up the hill to the geodesic dome that housed the hottest spring that Sierraville had to offer.
Within the dome, in the center of it actually, right in front of the big wooden Buddha, is the hot spring pool. Sand covers the bottom and the pool can reach temperatures of more then 115 degrees. There are other pools, like small stone sarcophagi, up stairs that curve a little over on the further wall from the hot pool that are no warmer then 55 degrees. If you have the stones, and they will shrivel when you do it I must say (from experience I might add), you jump from pool to pool and your immune system will boost like it never has before. This trip I was unable to really switch between the two as I had last time. I really don’t know why it was so difficult this time, but the water in the hot pool was sooo hot that the cool pools were soo cold that I hit then each a few times, till my hands cramped up and got sore, which took about fifteen seconds in the cold pool, and I was done. Now outside the dome there is an eighty-five degree swimming pool. There were a few people hanging out in it and I visited with them here and there.
“Nope.”
“Any crackers man?”
“Nope.”
“Oh well. Guess I’ll have another bowl of soup then.”
“Man! What are you doing?!!?? You eat soo much man!”
Slight confusion now as most of the food I had eaten I had either bought on the road or had brought. So I decided that I was done and had had enough.
“Alright man. I won’t eat any more of your food then man. I have nuts or something in my backpack man. Just go soak man, just go soak.” And I punctuated my non eating his foodness with an umpire “he’s safe” arm scissor thingy.
At this point he was standing over by the door and as I was looking in my bag o’ food I usually have on me and he began the cursing and the freak out, which had held off for a bit this time, came in full force.
“Well fuck you man. No, fuck you man, fuck you. Just fuck you man, no man fuck you.” And he went along that vein for a bit. I was looking at him thinking what exactly had brought this on, but I figured since his ear hurt him he was allowed. I tried to interject a bit to figure out what exactly he was going on about, but he would talk over me with a “Fuck” or two and I just let him wind down. I said “Alrighty man.” and he took off for the geodesic dome pool.
I sat there for a bit, shaking my head mostly, and then I ate some nuts that I have in my backpack and then I poured myself a rum and coke. I drank my drink, smoked a bit of the old frop, and decided that I would head on over to the pool myself.
The walk is about a mile or so, maybe a little less, and it winds around the front through the hot springs area along the long drive from the service road leading up to it. It was quiet, peaceful, and not at all like what had occurred in the RV. I let the night consume me, enfold me, and embrace me as I walked through the trees and along the lighted path up the hill to the geodesic dome that housed the hottest spring that Sierraville had to offer.
Within the dome, in the center of it actually, right in front of the big wooden Buddha, is the hot spring pool. Sand covers the bottom and the pool can reach temperatures of more then 115 degrees. There are other pools, like small stone sarcophagi, up stairs that curve a little over on the further wall from the hot pool that are no warmer then 55 degrees. If you have the stones, and they will shrivel when you do it I must say (from experience I might add), you jump from pool to pool and your immune system will boost like it never has before. This trip I was unable to really switch between the two as I had last time. I really don’t know why it was so difficult this time, but the water in the hot pool was sooo hot that the cool pools were soo cold that I hit then each a few times, till my hands cramped up and got sore, which took about fifteen seconds in the cold pool, and I was done. Now outside the dome there is an eighty-five degree swimming pool. There were a few people hanging out in it and I visited with them here and there.
The Last Huzzah Part 8
The way up was beautiful. As we climbed the mountain slopes into northern California it got cooler and cooler and then there was snow on the ground and on the tops of the mountains. It was stunning and beautiful.
On the way we stopped for gas and he decided to go into a fast food restaurant, but I dissuaded him stating that we would be at the philosophy café in a few hours and we should eat there. That was a big mistake on my part. We should have ate before we got there, but hindsight being twenty twenty we cruised along into the mountains and up and up and up.
Now the buddy has a GPS system that he acquired when we did our Vermont trip together (only available in The First Book From The Ridge. Buy your copy today!) and it kept at the same time of arrival for us, then began to work it’s way backwards through time. Therefore my buddy, when driving up to the hot springs in Sierraville, can move backwards in time. Cool trick if you can do it. As we moved back in time we continued to percolate our brain with fruity cannabis goodness and chatted about freakiness and different world issues. His ear was throbbing again but he refused to stop as he wanted to get to the hot springs as soon as possible.
We got to the hot springs and went directly to the philosophy café for a meal and some pseudo hippy pithy culture. When we went in though, there was mass chaos and confusion as the woman cooking there was swamped and had been invaded by more people then they had seen in months. In other words she was ill prepared and had no food ready. People had been waiting for half an hour or more for their food and it was unknown whether we would be able to get fed or not. The prices were reflective of the far removed aspect of the diner so for about eleven bucks you get either pizza or pasta. The website said that there were meals between the prices of seven and twelve dollars, though the seven dollar meals were not in evidence. Nor the eight, nine, or ten dollar meals either. So we waited. And we waited. And we waited. And we waited. And as the unconsciousness of lack of sustenance in our stomachs drove us ever closer to cannibalism, they handed us a spinach salad. My head bowed over the salad, and raised a half a minute later with an empty plate in front of me. Now during this entire episode not only did the “cook” complain about the fact that there was business in the diner, odd I must say for a profit run business, she also bad mouthed the burning man culture and the citizens of Black Rock City which didn’t make her any points I must say. She then passed over some cracker thin slices of “pizza” which didn’t really satiate the hunger I had. She handed us four pieces of the wafer thin crackerizza and I had a piece and my buddy had a piece. I shared a piece with a dude that was there looking hungry, I had one, and my buddy had two. The food, if that’s what it can be called of course, satisfied for a few moments, and in that time we went to the meditation pool which was close to where we had parked the RV for the night. As we soaked we talked to a dude in the pool that had some interesting ideas about the world and its current state of affairs, and we moved on to the trailer for some food a few hours later. We had a small bowl of some dehydrated split pea soup, and that’s when the serious freak out occurred. It went something like this.
On the way we stopped for gas and he decided to go into a fast food restaurant, but I dissuaded him stating that we would be at the philosophy café in a few hours and we should eat there. That was a big mistake on my part. We should have ate before we got there, but hindsight being twenty twenty we cruised along into the mountains and up and up and up.
Now the buddy has a GPS system that he acquired when we did our Vermont trip together (only available in The First Book From The Ridge. Buy your copy today!) and it kept at the same time of arrival for us, then began to work it’s way backwards through time. Therefore my buddy, when driving up to the hot springs in Sierraville, can move backwards in time. Cool trick if you can do it. As we moved back in time we continued to percolate our brain with fruity cannabis goodness and chatted about freakiness and different world issues. His ear was throbbing again but he refused to stop as he wanted to get to the hot springs as soon as possible.
We got to the hot springs and went directly to the philosophy café for a meal and some pseudo hippy pithy culture. When we went in though, there was mass chaos and confusion as the woman cooking there was swamped and had been invaded by more people then they had seen in months. In other words she was ill prepared and had no food ready. People had been waiting for half an hour or more for their food and it was unknown whether we would be able to get fed or not. The prices were reflective of the far removed aspect of the diner so for about eleven bucks you get either pizza or pasta. The website said that there were meals between the prices of seven and twelve dollars, though the seven dollar meals were not in evidence. Nor the eight, nine, or ten dollar meals either. So we waited. And we waited. And we waited. And we waited. And as the unconsciousness of lack of sustenance in our stomachs drove us ever closer to cannibalism, they handed us a spinach salad. My head bowed over the salad, and raised a half a minute later with an empty plate in front of me. Now during this entire episode not only did the “cook” complain about the fact that there was business in the diner, odd I must say for a profit run business, she also bad mouthed the burning man culture and the citizens of Black Rock City which didn’t make her any points I must say. She then passed over some cracker thin slices of “pizza” which didn’t really satiate the hunger I had. She handed us four pieces of the wafer thin crackerizza and I had a piece and my buddy had a piece. I shared a piece with a dude that was there looking hungry, I had one, and my buddy had two. The food, if that’s what it can be called of course, satisfied for a few moments, and in that time we went to the meditation pool which was close to where we had parked the RV for the night. As we soaked we talked to a dude in the pool that had some interesting ideas about the world and its current state of affairs, and we moved on to the trailer for some food a few hours later. We had a small bowl of some dehydrated split pea soup, and that’s when the serious freak out occurred. It went something like this.
The Last Huzzah Part 7
The stairwell I used to make my way upstairs had little cartoony ant creatures painted on the walls. And of course, more art. As I made my way upstairs I saw that the top floor was another area where there was more booths set up for different volunteer groups within the man umbrella that allows for the infrastructure to be established within black rock city. Some of the booths were the exodus, greeters, lamplighters, BMIR (burning man independent radio), and a guy from some flashing panda site where they sell light up fry toys. I spent a bit of time talking to the BMIR guy to see what it would take for me to get on the air and have a freak out beat poetry spin time and he was all for it. I left a card and got his name (yo bobzilla!) and the promise of a microphone in my direction anytime I walk in. I’d love to be able to play some groovy music and all during that time as well, I just don’t know if the CD’s would survive the heat of the car/day/desert/playa. Pity. I’ll try to come up with a solution but I’m not sure what it would be.
There were also a couple of guys there, they had said they had been to burning man since they were eighteen. They had to be in their early to late twenties, so a few years or so, and they offered their camping area to me as I’m still unsure whether my buddy will be going or not. They said they went to burning man, they set up their camp which takes them about eight hours or so, then they leave camp and explore the city, leaving their camp set up for all the other citizens of Black Rock City.
As the day continued they started the open suggestion forum where they were trying to come up with ideas for any ay for the man to be able to survive in the economic issues that our country, and even our world, are experiencing today. There were suggestions about the toilets, the cleanup, the mass of MOOP (matter out of place) left behind. During this meeting I came up with an idea for a themed camp maybe in a few years that I would love to do having to do with the reduction of garbage and waste on the playa, but I’ll keep that idea close to the vest for now.
There were a lot of different ideas that sprung up from the fertile minds of burners and virgins like me alike and also information about the man. Things like, for one week Black Rock City is the third largest city in Nevada. That the money to the BLM and other law enforcement agencies is only slightly more then the money spent on toilets.
So there were many different ideas and suggestions, and right in the middle of it my buddy started talking about how long it would be till we got to Sierraville hot springs if we left right then. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over. But for you out there, my reading little monkeys, my acolytes of bizarrity and untold strangeness, I tried to hang on for information’s sake. So we hung out for a bit longer, at least till the end of that meeting, and off we went to the hot springs.
There were also a couple of guys there, they had said they had been to burning man since they were eighteen. They had to be in their early to late twenties, so a few years or so, and they offered their camping area to me as I’m still unsure whether my buddy will be going or not. They said they went to burning man, they set up their camp which takes them about eight hours or so, then they leave camp and explore the city, leaving their camp set up for all the other citizens of Black Rock City.
As the day continued they started the open suggestion forum where they were trying to come up with ideas for any ay for the man to be able to survive in the economic issues that our country, and even our world, are experiencing today. There were suggestions about the toilets, the cleanup, the mass of MOOP (matter out of place) left behind. During this meeting I came up with an idea for a themed camp maybe in a few years that I would love to do having to do with the reduction of garbage and waste on the playa, but I’ll keep that idea close to the vest for now.
There were a lot of different ideas that sprung up from the fertile minds of burners and virgins like me alike and also information about the man. Things like, for one week Black Rock City is the third largest city in Nevada. That the money to the BLM and other law enforcement agencies is only slightly more then the money spent on toilets.
So there were many different ideas and suggestions, and right in the middle of it my buddy started talking about how long it would be till we got to Sierraville hot springs if we left right then. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. And over. But for you out there, my reading little monkeys, my acolytes of bizarrity and untold strangeness, I tried to hang on for information’s sake. So we hung out for a bit longer, at least till the end of that meeting, and off we went to the hot springs.
The Last Huzzah Part 6
Through the downstairs there was a door that led to a holding/storage area that in turn led out to the back of the building. It was here that the food was being cooked on outdoor grills and the Gray-B-Gone was at. Now for those of you not necessarily in the know, when you camp out on the playa there is a Leave No Trace philosophy that all must follow to allow for the Man to continue year to year. Nothing, from the smallest grain of shmutz to the grey water a camp will produce is allowed to touch the playa surface. The Gray-B-Gone is one mans solution to that problem. To really see what I’m talking/typing about the best bet is to go to instructables.com and check it out yourself. Suffice it to say the pulleys and belts and wind driven bicycle spoke propeller thingies make a large surface area rotate around and allows the sun to evaporate the grey water into the air. The guy running it said it could evaporate between five to ten gallons a day, and the dust from the playa won’t cause serious problems as the drum section revolves and doesn’t allow for the settling of dust onto a stagnant gray water removal system and making it unusable. It was a cool little invention, but I don’t think ill be using it as my gray water creation will be kept to a minimum if even non-existent. There were also these semi circular things that looked like satellite dishes, but on the inside there was seriously reflective surfaces that would concentrate the sun to a point about four feet (on the big one that is) out from the center of it. So what you did was take a long pole with a spike on it or a container that was metal and hold it out in the area. I went up and a woman was cooking a veggie burger and I asked her how long she was cooking the food she was cooking. She said it had been partially frozen and she had been cooking it for about a minute. She then opened the container thingy she was cooking it in and it was sizzling and done. After I got over the amazement and I could close my mouth again I went back over to the food table and had a few grapes.
I had already heated up the Shanghai I had brought and dropped it off at the table of food and gotten myself a burger, so when I went back to the table for grapes I was pleased to see all the shanghai was gone. About that time I got a call from my buddy wondering where he could park the RV and I told him about the big dirt parking lot and he started making his way to BMHQ.
As I was full, and wanted a head change, I went around to the back area of this weird industrial area, and had a few tokes. As I was swaying my way back (just a little sway) I saw one of the black rock rangers hanging out by his car. He offered to share a bowl and I shared as well and we headed back to the party. Someone said something about an upstairs and I worked my way to the stairs.
I had already heated up the Shanghai I had brought and dropped it off at the table of food and gotten myself a burger, so when I went back to the table for grapes I was pleased to see all the shanghai was gone. About that time I got a call from my buddy wondering where he could park the RV and I told him about the big dirt parking lot and he started making his way to BMHQ.
As I was full, and wanted a head change, I went around to the back area of this weird industrial area, and had a few tokes. As I was swaying my way back (just a little sway) I saw one of the black rock rangers hanging out by his car. He offered to share a bowl and I shared as well and we headed back to the party. Someone said something about an upstairs and I worked my way to the stairs.
The Last Huzzah Part 5
The ferry was fairly quick as far as mass transit goes, faster then the bus that is, and was rather an enjoyable way to travel. I called up another buddy and talked to him about the crazy night I had had as I cruised by San Quentin, a few other smaller islands, and Alcatraz. As I hung up with him we were already heading into the port and I was once again at the whims of the mass transit of Frisco.
I asked a couple of transit dudes, and was steered towards the street train area. After I found it it was a slightly harrowing, but in the end fairly boring ride to Burning Man Head Quarters and the potluck B-B-Q. I saw a guy on the train that was dressed in the same kind of outfit that the Ghostbusters wore when they were out not bring afraid of no ghosts and I asked him if he was there for the potluck. He said yes, then began to tell me of the glories of being a lamplighter volunteer. He had many little pendants on a length of leather around his neck that were given only to the lamplighters. The lamplighters are a group of people that volunteer to carry poles with twelve kerosene lanterns per pole. They roam the streets of Black Rock City at dusk o hang the lamps on the main streets leading to the Man, and also along the Esplanade. I let him know that I was going to the man this year, my first year, and that I was going to wander. Maybe next year ill carry the poles and light the avenues and ways of Black Rock City. I have yet to decide.
We walked together through the door to BMHQ and the first thing I noticed was the Merhorse art in the foyer. It was weird to be standing there, looking at something that I had seen many many pictures of and never thought that I would see in reality let alone touch. I reached out with tentative fingers and gently grasped the foreleg, the bent one, of a piece of art that was stationed out on the Playa. It was beautiful. Within the same foyer, leading up to the second floor were many poster sized pictures of different Man intensive things. There was a poster of the different stages of the Man burning, I think it was from a few years ago. There was a table set up, also in the foyer, where a woman was hanging out with other people. She would look at men walking by and say “I’ve got a big sausage!” and whip out a kielbasa from her purse. The lamplighter guy split I think upstairs, I saw him around later, and I went through the building looking at the different art pieces and posters. I did a quick look though, as my bladder had been screaming at me for about 45 minutes and I needed to relieve myself. In the bathroom at the urinals there were instructions that the wall needed to be written on before the buildings demise. I didn’t have a pen on me, so I couldn’t add anything pithy or intense to the destructible wall. After relieving myself I went back to the foyer and took my time walking through the building.
I asked a couple of transit dudes, and was steered towards the street train area. After I found it it was a slightly harrowing, but in the end fairly boring ride to Burning Man Head Quarters and the potluck B-B-Q. I saw a guy on the train that was dressed in the same kind of outfit that the Ghostbusters wore when they were out not bring afraid of no ghosts and I asked him if he was there for the potluck. He said yes, then began to tell me of the glories of being a lamplighter volunteer. He had many little pendants on a length of leather around his neck that were given only to the lamplighters. The lamplighters are a group of people that volunteer to carry poles with twelve kerosene lanterns per pole. They roam the streets of Black Rock City at dusk o hang the lamps on the main streets leading to the Man, and also along the Esplanade. I let him know that I was going to the man this year, my first year, and that I was going to wander. Maybe next year ill carry the poles and light the avenues and ways of Black Rock City. I have yet to decide.
We walked together through the door to BMHQ and the first thing I noticed was the Merhorse art in the foyer. It was weird to be standing there, looking at something that I had seen many many pictures of and never thought that I would see in reality let alone touch. I reached out with tentative fingers and gently grasped the foreleg, the bent one, of a piece of art that was stationed out on the Playa. It was beautiful. Within the same foyer, leading up to the second floor were many poster sized pictures of different Man intensive things. There was a poster of the different stages of the Man burning, I think it was from a few years ago. There was a table set up, also in the foyer, where a woman was hanging out with other people. She would look at men walking by and say “I’ve got a big sausage!” and whip out a kielbasa from her purse. The lamplighter guy split I think upstairs, I saw him around later, and I went through the building looking at the different art pieces and posters. I did a quick look though, as my bladder had been screaming at me for about 45 minutes and I needed to relieve myself. In the bathroom at the urinals there were instructions that the wall needed to be written on before the buildings demise. I didn’t have a pen on me, so I couldn’t add anything pithy or intense to the destructible wall. After relieving myself I went back to the foyer and took my time walking through the building.
The Last Huzzah Part 4
The next stop had a fellow that proceeded to freak out on the driver as he didn’t have the complete fare, he was short about four cents, and whether he needed to get off a few streets early as he didn’t have the fare. And he complained to all that would listen and all that wouldn’t about how the driver, the city, the people in the city, the visitors to the city, and everyone else in the world and/or universe caused the problems of fare increase. So in the end, I think the driver got what he deserved for his racist and idiotic remarks, and probably will for the rest of his working career.
So we rode the little cable car around the city and back again to the civic center, as that was the last cable car ride available in the city. We got back to the civic center and waited and walked and tried to find the right bus stop back to the RV, but little did we know that we had ridden the last bus into the city at the beginning of the adventure. So after hanging out, and walking from stop to stop, and asking passerbies, and using others cell phones we decided to catch a cab back to the RV. That in itself was a quest as the taxis, for some reason, don’t want to stop at the civic center. So we wandered for a bit till we got picked up by a Palestinian taxi driver and we headed back to the RV. Forty dollars lighter and informed of the thoughts and feelings of an immigrant from Palestine we went and found our respective pillows. I set my watch to wake me up for the first ferry into Frisco and fell into slumber.
The next day I got up and duder was feeling frumpy and bumpy. He was working on a serious ear infection, antibiotics and everything, so he was feeling considerably crappy and was in no mood to boogey on to the city. I heated up a few of the shanghai, as I was starvin, handed him one and stuffed the rest along with the bottle of spicy chili sauce into my little pouch I had. The pouch was the sleeve to the bladder that I had bought at the local surplus store, but the bladder made the water so heinous that I got rid of the bladder and used the pouch to carry stuff in. so I stuffed and strolled, taking hits along the way before I got to the ferry area, and bought the ticket to Frisco.
So we rode the little cable car around the city and back again to the civic center, as that was the last cable car ride available in the city. We got back to the civic center and waited and walked and tried to find the right bus stop back to the RV, but little did we know that we had ridden the last bus into the city at the beginning of the adventure. So after hanging out, and walking from stop to stop, and asking passerbies, and using others cell phones we decided to catch a cab back to the RV. That in itself was a quest as the taxis, for some reason, don’t want to stop at the civic center. So we wandered for a bit till we got picked up by a Palestinian taxi driver and we headed back to the RV. Forty dollars lighter and informed of the thoughts and feelings of an immigrant from Palestine we went and found our respective pillows. I set my watch to wake me up for the first ferry into Frisco and fell into slumber.
The next day I got up and duder was feeling frumpy and bumpy. He was working on a serious ear infection, antibiotics and everything, so he was feeling considerably crappy and was in no mood to boogey on to the city. I heated up a few of the shanghai, as I was starvin, handed him one and stuffed the rest along with the bottle of spicy chili sauce into my little pouch I had. The pouch was the sleeve to the bladder that I had bought at the local surplus store, but the bladder made the water so heinous that I got rid of the bladder and used the pouch to carry stuff in. so I stuffed and strolled, taking hits along the way before I got to the ferry area, and bought the ticket to Frisco.
The Last Huzzah Part 3
We first started trying to find the ferry, which was up and over the freeway directly from where we were, but it took walking about to find it, or really to get the right answer to the simple question “Where’s the bus stop around here?” So after finding the ferry and then the bus stop an hour or so later, after crossing the freeway multiple times in multiple ways we made it to the bus stop that actually had the busses stop at them that late in the evening. And that was the catch we should have realized. The time of the evening. But being freaks in need of a good time, that little fact of time tables and bus schedules didn’t dissuade us from our journey, our quest for the city.
We paid the four dollars and fifty-five cents to the bus driver, after questioning two women at the stop with us as to where and what bus we should take, and off we went.
As we rode the bus, through towns like Sausalito, Corte Madera, and Marin. My buddy was amazed, at what I’m not entirely sure. Whether it was the fact that we had finally found the bus, that we were actually on the bus to Frisco, or that he was still rushing from the endorphins coursing through his body still from the excessive walking. So we rode, rode, and rode some more till we got to the Civic Center at the heart of Frisco and we got off of the bus. From there we cruised to the BART train and tried to ride it around. But after buying the ticket to the train and seeing the train speed away before we got to it, we waited a bit till a blonde woman from the BART land of Frisco decided to inform us that that last train, the one right there speeding away, was the last one of the evening. Now that should have been our clue as to the evening’s course, but we were not deterred. We climbed back out onto the street and found the street cable car rides and jumped on them and rode them to the fisherman’s wharf area. The driver was a tallish roundish fellow that had to deal with quite a lot from the commuters he met. I actually had a bit of pity for him, until a black fellow came on the train.
He was having a problem coming up with the fare, a dollar and fifty-five cents I think it was, and was inebriated as well, which I think didn’t help either his ability to fish for change or his ability to converse coherently. So as he’s trying to find the change for his fare another fellow handed him his transfer ticket to use, as he said he had at least five of them already and it was not going to impede his traveling abilities. As the other gent tried to hand the driver his transfer the driver said he wasn’t able to take said transfer. At this point I got the feeling he, the driver, was trying to be either difficult or disagreeable. The other gentleman, he of the transfer ticket giving nature, got up and dumped a handful of change into the change receptacle. As the cable car started forward the one gent, he of the change giving, began to complain about the state of the country and the problems with transit in general. The driver then began to way in with his viewpoint of how people want a free ride and a mess of other inane objections. The one guy, he of the change, stated that in this country he had the right to state his opinion, his first amendment right actually, and an argument ensued till the two guys ended up hitting the stop and getting off the cable car. As they rounded the front of the cable car and ran across the street the driver opened the window closest to him and yelled “Fucking Niggars” and started forward again.
We paid the four dollars and fifty-five cents to the bus driver, after questioning two women at the stop with us as to where and what bus we should take, and off we went.
As we rode the bus, through towns like Sausalito, Corte Madera, and Marin. My buddy was amazed, at what I’m not entirely sure. Whether it was the fact that we had finally found the bus, that we were actually on the bus to Frisco, or that he was still rushing from the endorphins coursing through his body still from the excessive walking. So we rode, rode, and rode some more till we got to the Civic Center at the heart of Frisco and we got off of the bus. From there we cruised to the BART train and tried to ride it around. But after buying the ticket to the train and seeing the train speed away before we got to it, we waited a bit till a blonde woman from the BART land of Frisco decided to inform us that that last train, the one right there speeding away, was the last one of the evening. Now that should have been our clue as to the evening’s course, but we were not deterred. We climbed back out onto the street and found the street cable car rides and jumped on them and rode them to the fisherman’s wharf area. The driver was a tallish roundish fellow that had to deal with quite a lot from the commuters he met. I actually had a bit of pity for him, until a black fellow came on the train.
He was having a problem coming up with the fare, a dollar and fifty-five cents I think it was, and was inebriated as well, which I think didn’t help either his ability to fish for change or his ability to converse coherently. So as he’s trying to find the change for his fare another fellow handed him his transfer ticket to use, as he said he had at least five of them already and it was not going to impede his traveling abilities. As the other gent tried to hand the driver his transfer the driver said he wasn’t able to take said transfer. At this point I got the feeling he, the driver, was trying to be either difficult or disagreeable. The other gentleman, he of the transfer ticket giving nature, got up and dumped a handful of change into the change receptacle. As the cable car started forward the one gent, he of the change giving, began to complain about the state of the country and the problems with transit in general. The driver then began to way in with his viewpoint of how people want a free ride and a mess of other inane objections. The one guy, he of the change, stated that in this country he had the right to state his opinion, his first amendment right actually, and an argument ensued till the two guys ended up hitting the stop and getting off the cable car. As they rounded the front of the cable car and ran across the street the driver opened the window closest to him and yelled “Fucking Niggars” and started forward again.
The Last Huzzah Part 2
Friday came and I waited for what seemed like forever and was actually about six hours till I got the call from the freaky dude. He was heading over, after dropping off the wife and kidlings at the in-laws, and he was driving the rental they had acquired. I let him know the wifeykins was getting off a little earlier then normal and it was on.
I ended up packing the backpack, along with the lumbar butt pack, and the new MOLLE equipment bladder holder for the water and I was set. I filled the Nalgene flask with some Sailor Jerry’s rum and figured I was ready.
The wifeykins showed up just before freaky boy and he helped me carry the tyedyes and the rest of my stuff out to the car he had brought. We both hopped in and it was off to the races.
We made it through the hills and valleys of the central coast up to the house where the RV was at and we got ready to pull out. My stuff was transferred and we made our way to Wally world for some supplies. I needed a liter of coke for the rum, a pair of insoles as the ones I had were beginning to give up the ghost, and a phone card for my suck phone (not a registered company). After the required procurement of said stuffers and thingses we once again got on the road north to the town of Frisco.
The ride was semi uneventful. The road unfolded beneath us and we talked and smoked bowls and hung out. I had researched the RV parks around and within the SF area and had found one at Candlestick Park and a few outside the city. But how far outside we had no idea. He, the buddy of the freakiness, had called the candlestick one and being how it was in a high crime area and was more expensive we opted to go to a small park north of the city proper. It was in a small town called Greenbrae and the site said that the ferry to the city was a short distance away, about a ten minute walk.
We arrived after the normal check in hours and picked a spot right next to the exit. For easier escape in the morning hours. We had a delicious meal of steak and fresh spinach salad and some dehydrated split pea soup. As little freakiness was cooking it, he would cut sections out of the center and eat it, in a weird hunched hiding gesture, and then feign ignorance when I asked him how it tasted.
After the meal we decided to take the bus to the city and check out the crazy night life. And so began the odyssey to make it to the city and back again before the next day using the public transit system.
I ended up packing the backpack, along with the lumbar butt pack, and the new MOLLE equipment bladder holder for the water and I was set. I filled the Nalgene flask with some Sailor Jerry’s rum and figured I was ready.
The wifeykins showed up just before freaky boy and he helped me carry the tyedyes and the rest of my stuff out to the car he had brought. We both hopped in and it was off to the races.
We made it through the hills and valleys of the central coast up to the house where the RV was at and we got ready to pull out. My stuff was transferred and we made our way to Wally world for some supplies. I needed a liter of coke for the rum, a pair of insoles as the ones I had were beginning to give up the ghost, and a phone card for my suck phone (not a registered company). After the required procurement of said stuffers and thingses we once again got on the road north to the town of Frisco.
The ride was semi uneventful. The road unfolded beneath us and we talked and smoked bowls and hung out. I had researched the RV parks around and within the SF area and had found one at Candlestick Park and a few outside the city. But how far outside we had no idea. He, the buddy of the freakiness, had called the candlestick one and being how it was in a high crime area and was more expensive we opted to go to a small park north of the city proper. It was in a small town called Greenbrae and the site said that the ferry to the city was a short distance away, about a ten minute walk.
We arrived after the normal check in hours and picked a spot right next to the exit. For easier escape in the morning hours. We had a delicious meal of steak and fresh spinach salad and some dehydrated split pea soup. As little freakiness was cooking it, he would cut sections out of the center and eat it, in a weird hunched hiding gesture, and then feign ignorance when I asked him how it tasted.
After the meal we decided to take the bus to the city and check out the crazy night life. And so began the odyssey to make it to the city and back again before the next day using the public transit system.
The Last Huzzah Part 1
Once again, even after the eleven hours of sleep I had, I am exhausted. And of course, the trip to Frisco for the last Burning Man hoorah has come and gone. Almost exactly like the building that it was at will be gone as well. Yes little monkeys once again your favorite tye dyed informer has gone and returned, where some fear to tread I might add, to the last gathering of the few, the proud, the freaky at burning man headquarters in San Francisco. This was the to be the last great shindig at said building as the University of California at San Francisco is going to be raising it to the ground and in its stead will be a women and children’s hospital for cancer research I think. Or maybe just a clinic. At any rate it will be for a good cause, and as they (the BM crew that is) knew of the tenuous grip they had on the building, they are fine with it as they knew when they rented the building and are waiting to move somewhere tasty enough for the BMHQ. But I once again get ahead of myself.
This whole moving saga begins, as does most of anything in life, at a hot spring here in California. Well, maybe not everything in life begins at a hot springs, but maybe it should. No maybe, it really should. But I digress. Our freaky buddies had come out from Vermont and we had met them at Franklin hot springs and it was the next day. We were grooving on our early morning soak, weird gas powered RC boats were zipping around the pond and I was getting excited as the next week was another burning man outing I had scheduled for myself. I, of course, invited the freaky buddy to go since it was going to be a one day outing, or so it had been planned that way originally, and he came off with the “why not take the RV?” I ended up staring at him for a bit then said I didn’t think so as I needed to be back for my wife to have the car as she was going to visit a friend a few towns away. Which after I said it didn’t make much sense as she would have the car all weekend and would be free to do what she wanted. So she agreed (what a wifeykins I have I tell ya) and it was on. So as we began to talk, while soaking, it became more involved then when I first planned it. It started with “why don’t we go to Sierraville after the burning man thing dude?” Sierraville hot springs is this awesome hippy sanctuary in northern California where, to keep their non-profit status I think, you have to join their church before you’re allowed to soak. I had been there with him about three years ago and was ready and willing to go back. But once again, as it’s not just about me, I was not sure the wifeykins would be ok with no hubby. Yet when asked the joy that came over her face at the thought of a weekend alone with her kids made her say yes.
So once again I was anticipation.
This whole moving saga begins, as does most of anything in life, at a hot spring here in California. Well, maybe not everything in life begins at a hot springs, but maybe it should. No maybe, it really should. But I digress. Our freaky buddies had come out from Vermont and we had met them at Franklin hot springs and it was the next day. We were grooving on our early morning soak, weird gas powered RC boats were zipping around the pond and I was getting excited as the next week was another burning man outing I had scheduled for myself. I, of course, invited the freaky buddy to go since it was going to be a one day outing, or so it had been planned that way originally, and he came off with the “why not take the RV?” I ended up staring at him for a bit then said I didn’t think so as I needed to be back for my wife to have the car as she was going to visit a friend a few towns away. Which after I said it didn’t make much sense as she would have the car all weekend and would be free to do what she wanted. So she agreed (what a wifeykins I have I tell ya) and it was on. So as we began to talk, while soaking, it became more involved then when I first planned it. It started with “why don’t we go to Sierraville after the burning man thing dude?” Sierraville hot springs is this awesome hippy sanctuary in northern California where, to keep their non-profit status I think, you have to join their church before you’re allowed to soak. I had been there with him about three years ago and was ready and willing to go back. But once again, as it’s not just about me, I was not sure the wifeykins would be ok with no hubby. Yet when asked the joy that came over her face at the thought of a weekend alone with her kids made her say yes.
So once again I was anticipation.
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