Foxy Moxy: The Virgin Burner Diaries...

Installment #1 of The Burning Man Blog

Nerves about desert survival and all, I'm on the way now! My partner Scott and I arrived in Dallas at the rendezvous point with the third person in our party, Naked Bob. Although Bob is not naked at the airport (though I bet that would simplify those pesky security checkpoints), I call him that because he lives at the largest nudist resort in North America, Caliente Resort in Tampa, Florida. Naked Bob is the reason we're going to Burning Man this year at all. He bought all of our tickets on a whim, and just like that, we're off to a strange new experience.

Because we all came from the east coast by airplane, we decided to pick up whatever we need in Sacramento. We chose Sacramento over Reno specifically because most burners fly through Reno, and the shopping options for camping gear slim down very quickly.

We rent an SUV with GPS and program in the address of the local evil corporate supercenter to fulfill our desert needs. Some $800 later, we have tents, bicycles, food, water, propane and assorted libations. We pick up a camp shower and a washtub, too, hoping for the best as well as *sigh*, babywipes in case our cleanliness aspirations are aimed too high .

From Reno onward you can already spot the Burners, who smile and wave from their vehicles, many of which are decorated with likenesses of The Man. We continue in the general direction of the Black Rock Desert and spend the night at Pyramid Lake in a cozy cabin. Primitive and otherworldly in it's appearance, Pyramid Lake is astonishingly beautiful in the morning light and I submerge myself in it's cool depths, wondering just how much nicer it may seem a week from now.

We're driving the homestretch, and join a line of cars pressing on through the desert into tiny Gerlach, NV, the last bit of civilization before Burning Man. After Gerlach the line is solid and travels at a snail's pace for all 8 miles, stopping entirely when an RV way up ahead catches fire.

As we ease into the line for the gate which goes another few miles, a ferocious dust storm envelopes us, white-out conditions that don't allow visibility past the windshield. They close the gate down, which we find out after Scott and Bob don masks and goggles and press out into the storm seeking info. Told to stay behind, I feel left out. This lasts momentarily, as swirling clouds of choking dust billow back inside the car doors in their wake.

Six hours later, night has fallen. It's taken an entire day to travel the final 30 miles! As we reach the front of the line, an impossibly friendly, dust-covered greeter sticks his face in our window and says, "welcome home". He points us toward the city, and at last, we're in!