The internet is a funny place. It’s allowed me to connect with people across the world I would never know existed otherwise. It’s like a virtual Pandora’s Box except there’s good mixed in with the evil. However, once Pandora’s Box has been opened, there’s just no shutting that little Mofo. Once you’ve allowed some internet tomfoolery to enter your life, it’s like cyber lice that no amount of head shaving can vanquish. I could never have imagined that innocently agreeing to meet up with a couple of fellow bloggers 3 years ago would turn out to have such severely detrimental and far-reaching consequences. And so, it’s with a heavy heart filled with shame and remorse that I shall relay the story of The Burners.
This August was the 3rd year in a row that Brett and Rich have driven through my lovely Salt Lake on their way to attend Burning Man. The first two years were pleasant enough, appropriately tame and all parties involved left with their dignity intact.
This year however? THIS year? *deep tragic sigh*
Let me tell you a bit about these two.
I still have no idea what either of them really do for a living because we never seem to get around to talking about that. We stick to the deep, meaningful life discussions that involve things like...balls. And naked karaoke. And...whatever. My POINT is, it doesn't matter what is discussed. If you ever have the opportunity to hang with these two, do it. You won't immediately regret it. They both have this way of making ANYTHING fun. They're two of the most accepting people I've ever been lucky enough to know and I've come to love these idiots dearly.
We met up at the bar Piper Down again. Brett, Rich and their beautiful blonde companion, Allison.
Brett had another couple of friends show up but I can't recall their names so we'll go with Blondie and Blondier. Or, as the night progressed, Drunky and Drunkier.
I brought my own blonde backup in the form of my friend McQueenie.
So we've got the two veteran Burners, a whole lotta sexy blondeness, and then me. The red-headed step child let out of the attic for this very special occasion.
We ordered dinner. Poutine and scotch eggs for me. I'd never tried scotch eggs and was clearly not drunk enough to enjoy them as I imagined they're meant to be enjoyed. Unless they're like the Scottish version of brussel sprouts in which case, why are they even on the menu? It's a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat, coated in bread crumbs and deep-fried. On this night, a lifelong conviction I'd always held dear was shattered. Deep-fried does not guarantee automatic enjoyment.
More drinks were ordered, shots were consumed and dancing by Drunky and Drunkier commenced.
It was with a mixture of annoyance and jealousy I watched them dance with the tight lipped smile of a woman whose version of dancing involves someone yelling for a wallet to be shoved into her mouth to avoid biting off her own tongue during what is clearly an epileptic fit.
Dancing was eventually terminated when the bouncer made them sit down.
At one point Drunky started slanting towards the floor while in her seat then jerked upright with a sloppy sideways smirk. Brett looked over at me with a grin and said, "She just mentally fell".
While they continued their feminine hijinks, I worked on removing the judgmental stick that had somehow wedged itself up my ass and tried to focus on the conversation. We got back to talking about the trip.
The ride they purchased for the trip was a '96 El Dorado RV they fondly named, The Goat. Allison began to wax poetic about how impressive the size and girth of The Goat was while Brett piped in with, "We're really into goats".
Brett and Rich have always talked about what an amazing adventure Burning Man is and how everyone should have the chance to experience it at least once in their life. I asked Rich why his wife hasn't ever joined him on this marvelous enterprise to which he replied, "She hates dirt".
They showed me a picture of the layout of the camps and discussed how their setup was conveniently situated between the Thunder Dome and the orgy camp.
And it was at this precise moment my life took a turn for the worse. Rich stated, rather than asked, saying I was going to Burning Man. Being trapped in the desert for a week surrounded by oddly dressed strangers who seem to have a penchant for blind acceptance and love for their fellowmen, sounds like some kind of fresh new nightmare specifically designed for my own personal circle of hell. So naturally, I agreed. In the form of a stinky pinky swear.
And now, just thinking about this poor life promise I’ve made, I can feel my soul drooping within me, draining out my ass. That anal leakage? Oh, just my soul.