I'm Trapped At Burning Man
And I can't wait to come back next year.
I’m at Burning Man for the fifth year in a row, and my phone is dangerously low on power; I can’t even take a selfie. I’d drop a pin, but my location won’t show up because I’m too far off the grid, which was the entire point of going to Burning Man. If I don’t return to LA alive, please tell my agent to cancel my Raya account.
Dregg, our leader, has been missing for seventeen hours. He was last seen wearing a cape made of flamingo feathers, metallic tights made out of old slinkies, and an elk antler crown wrapped in tinsel. You can’t miss him. I’m sure he’s okay; he has enough mushrooms to get high for at least a month.
I searched for sustenance on my Unicycle, but it wouldn’t travel well through all the mud. If I can get my hoverboard working, I know I’ll be able to get home. The only problem is it doesn’t actually hover or work. It’s just an old skateboard without wheels I found at Out of The Closet and spray-painted gold. It’s more of a prop than anything.
I didn’t dress for the rain. I never dress for the rain. I don’t even own a pair of whatever those ugly rubber boots are called that keep your feet from getting wet. Rain boots? I tried to wade through the puddles in my sequin mermaid tail that took me eleven months to sew, but the puddles were too shallow to make any real progress. And I have a strict rule that when I’m wearing my mermaid tail, I can’t speak in human. I can only communicate in whale songs. I splashed around for a while, but it got cold, and I changed into something more appropriate for the situation. But now my shorts have disappeared into my ass cheeks, and I have no idea if I’ll ever find them again. My temporary face tattoo looks more like a penis than a flower, and I’m running dangerously low on Pamplemousse flavored La Croix.
This is almost worse than the time I went to Fyre Festival. Now, we’re being told by the Government to shelter in place and ration our food and water. Sorry, but I came out here because this is a government-free zone. The man can’t tell me what to do out here. Burning Man has no rules, laws, feds, or monetary transactions. If I want food, I’ll have to barter for it, which is why I carry a one-hundred pack of glow sticks in my satchel.
I took seventeen edibles for breakfast and tried to use my mattress as a boat. I paddled with my arms for a while but got tired and napped. When I woke up, my mattress was crowd-surfing to the other side of the playa while I was still on it. I felt like royalty until they threw my mattress on the burn pile. I climbed down because I didn’t want to be set on fire.
If you don’t hear from me in the next few days, it’s because either my phone died or I died. I told my good friend Br0nk, whom I just met, to sprinkle my ashes here next year so that life can go full circle! And if I make it out alive, I can’t wait to re-burn!
BURNER-4-LIFE!