This one time, at Burning Man, I rode the Partysmail during an epic dust storm to the man to watch him burn.
It was Saturday night, and instead of feeling happy and excited, I was pissy and irritated.
Me and dust storms DO NOT GET ALONG.
It was cold.
I was wearing rainbow velour pants and my neon green faux fur long jacket.
And I was still cold.
I took out my camera and shot a few seconds worth of the dust storm.
Later on, I looked at the footage and realized it reminded me of something out of a Star Wars movie on desolated Tatooine, with a collection of oddballs and assorted mutant vehicles all trying to weather the dust storm.
When people ask to see photos and video of my experiences at Burning Man sure, I show them the picture of a hot blonde chick in a white under-the-bust corset, toe shoes, and NOTHING ELSE.
She was part of my 2015 burn.
But I also show them the video of the dust storm.
Not just to warn them of what may lay ahead. . .
. . .but to remind myself that I’m actually one pretty tough chick myself.
I may not stumble around on toe shoes in nothing but a corset, but I can weather a freezing cold dust storm.
Honestly, I’ve been to a few burns now, but that experience of getting disoriented in a dust storm, of watching people materialize and dematerialize in the dust, sitting hunkered down on a mutant vehicle with my goggles and mask on, that experience made me more of a burner than any of my previous burns ever did.