By GroundScore
Yes dear reader, I went to my third Burning Man in 2018 with absolutely nothing other than the clothes on my back and a duffle bag full of costumes. ‘Cause you know, priorities. This was actually an accidental happening. One that I would not recommend, but I’m here to tell you that despite being homeless, without water, no food, no tent, no bike, no sleeping bags, I had the time of my life.
It all started the day I connected successfully with a ride share. It turns out this move majorly saved my ass… literally. I typically take the Burner Express bus in and out, but I figured I’d save the 80 bucks and head on in with a guy with an RV. Turns out, he was from the same exact city as me and he lives 10 minutes away. This man, also became my Playa husband. For the sake of his marriage and mine, I will christen him since he does not have a Playa name after six Burns. Let’s call him…. Doc.
Ria and Hans in Peter’s RV
When we arrived it was 5 a.m. and Doc offered to let me to stay in his RV since it would have been almost impossible to set up a tent in the dark and not wake the neighbors. I had sent my tent and my sleeping bags to my camp folk and ordered up a bike. That would all be waiting for me in the morning — or so I thought. We stopped at one of my favorite camps, the camp formerly known as Miso Horny, now only Miso, and had its delicious namesake soup and warm sake in Orientally decorated porcelain bowls and small white sake cups. It was the best way to start a Burn in the wee hours of the desert chill. Doc also had extra bikes, and we parked and grabbed two of them and headed out to the trash fence to see the sunrise. Glorious. Upon returning, we parked the RV in a better spot for camp placement, I met some of the gang, Car Wash, Choo-Choo, Bad Idea, Presence, Hans, and also the band members that stay with camp Crossroads.
After that, I headed out to my camp, the name of which is not to be revealed here because I have class, most days anyway, and was shocked to find that the healers did not have my stuff, were unapologetic about it, and when I finally went back with my Playa husband who was going to defend my honor to camp there, they handed me a grow-house setup and some random boxes. We left everything, never to return.
Doc graciously accepted me into his RV. Mind you, his camp was directly next door to my brother’s camp, the Salty Jacks, who I also camped with for part of one year, so that Playa magic came in handy when I needed to go back and forth so as not to be a pest to any one person in particular. I picked up some essentials from him, and headed back to Doc, and we had two glorious days together. We laughed, he made me feel welcome and loved, and we danced and climbed things together, went to the Orgy Dome, and also I suffered a head laceration when I fell from a climbing wall. The blood didn’t stop our party train.
During the days, I would head out on my own and explore. Some highlights:
– A very tall dark and handsome man read my palm. Spot on.
– I had breakfast of peach corn pops and Grand Marnier
– Was gifted a jacket, lip balm, lavender spray, necklaces, charms, and other camp swag
– Saw my articles on the front pages of the Beacon and met my editor in person, and he fed me a bagel with cream cheese and salmon and a whole avocado
– Lost a borrowed bike when I was picked up in a sandstorm by an art car and woke up in a totally different part of the Playa who knows how many hours later
– Rode almost a dozen art cars over the course of the week
– Saw my daughter’s artwork at an art installation I wrote about and participated in as a shepherd.
– Helped two camps and the sheep art installation break down
– Picked up copper wires from the Man after Burn and made my daughter a charm
– Met tons of interesting people of course
– Ate fresh-baked bread with homemade jams and Nutella and mint tea
– Slept on a futon under the stars with two lovely women that I giggled with during the Temple Burn
– Spun a wheel to get a bike flag and came up with “Dare” and was told to make Playa Angels on the road, which I did while screaming, “I love ecstasy”. The woman behind me spun “butt plug” and she got lubed up and did it.
– Took one singular photo with Lucinda Fire Camera
– Watched hundreds of drones perform a murmuring like starlings do
– Watched the longest most extravagant fireworks show at the burning of the Man in Larry Harvey’s honor to celebrate his life
– Participated in a circle of thousands of Burners howl in remembrance and to mourn the passing of Larry Harvey spontaneously and just like the wave at a sports arena event during the Temple Burn
– Slept cuddled up with my little brother inside of a truck on an air mattress with a blanket our grandmother knitted to keep us warm.
– Partied under a 100-foot disco ball
– Drank multiple craft beers from a draft truck
– Watched the jet fighters hot dogging and putting on an air show for us again
– Performed an interview with founder of Mercy for Animals, Milo Runkle, a hero of mine, at the Hair of the Dog stage. Then got into a fight with one of the guys there.
– Didn’t cry once this year!
At some point, a member in the Crossroads camp offered me his tent. This is the tent he and his wife were using to house their garments. We managed to find some bedding, and a little corner of dust now was mine for a spell. After Doc left, I packed up the tent and crossed 9 with my things to spend the rest of the week with the SaltyJacks and to spend a couple of days with my brother. And finally on that futon under the stars for my last night. But it wouldn’t be Burning Man without another little piece of drama.
On my last day, I woke up and found an abandoned three-wheeler and put my bags on the back and headed out to catch my bus out to the airport to catch my flights home. Only, I couldn’t find the damn depot. When I turned to look at my Who What When Where book in my bag, the bag was gone. It had fallen off of the back of my bike. Had this been my clothes I wouldn’t have cared, but it was my bag with my passport, ID’s, iphone, wallet, money, bank cards; basically, my everything. I was freaking out of course. I left the bike with my clothing on the side of J, and grabbed a community bike to quickly start searching for it… nothing. I finally went to the Rangers who called two of their colleagues on bikes to help me find it. On our way out, I asked the Ranger at the station to call the other Rangers to see if they could see it anywhere because at this point it was 7:45 and my bus was leaving at 8, and just at that moment, a gentleman, who also came to ask them something, overheard me describing my bag to them and said, “Are you Ria?” And he had found my bag. I followed him on his bike at top speed, he handed me the bag, of course big hugs and thanks were in order, and then I rushed to grab my things. I managed to get on the bike and hoof it just in time to get on the shuttle and made it to my bus. Truly a moment in Playa magic.
They don’t call me GroundScore for nuthin’. Forever from the trenches- GroundScore.