This was among one of my favorite stories that Leah decided to tell me. I say decided because I feel Burning Man is the sort of event where you choose carefully what you share. Like Vegas, some of what happens there, stays there, no one the wiser. Not even you, if it’s really good.
I’m assuming all this, of course, since I’ve never been to Burning Man (or burned any men, for that matter). I have a handul of friends who are BM devotees, and its certainly on my list of things to do, about halfway down, between Ewan McGregor and learning Quechua.
The concept of a fair where, besides the cost of getting there and getting in, everything is free is surreal enough. Everything. Food, gifts, drugs, booze. Allow me to back this thing up. Free. Booze. Disneyland doesn’t even have that, making me question its self-proclaimed “happiest place on Earth” status. You have to bring something to the fair, but I want to know who these people are who bring such things that are normally very not-free and just give this shit away in return for hemp jewelry, buttons, and grilled cheese sandwiches.
Oh yeah, and lots of ca-razy sex.
The ginger root thing is called “figging”. The things you learn reading The Stranger.