Mystical Mysfits Village at 4:30 and B held a Scotchfest celebration at Burning Man 2015.

The “price” of admission was a bottle of scotch.

I managed to navigate my way there all by myself. I was so proud.

I sat and chatted with people while we waited for the ice to arrive.

Scotchfest was taking place during a wicked duststorm.

The man in charge was GORGEOUS and wearing my old school tartan in a green and blue kilt with no shirt, a tanned chest, and a perfectly muscular body.

I nearly creamed myself when I saw him.

He had dark wavy hair with bright blue eyes and looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine instead of in a dusty den in the Nevada desert.

He poured me my first drink – a lovely, peaty Lagavulin.

After that, I sampled a few more scotches – Laphroig, Caol Ila, Glenmorangie, and God I forget the rest.

At one point I went up to him to get a pour of Bowmore Black Rock (I’m not kidding, it was called Black Rock scotch). I was putting on chapstick just when he turned to look at me and I got flustered and dropped the chapstick cap straight down my cleavage (which is impressive).scotchfest3 scotchfest1I paused for a moment.

“You want me to get it?” he joked with a grin that made my knees weak.

“No,” I squeaked. “I can get it. Some Bowmore, please,” and with that my humiliation was complete.

scotchfest4Only me folks, only me.


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