Usually, I go to Burning Man and spend 7 days in the alpine desert known as The Playa.
It’s dust-filled and wind-blown and basically one of the most inhospitable environments I know.
And this is where I vacation.
After seven days of playa, I’m usually more than ready to go home.
This year, I left the playa a few hours early on a Burner Express bus which took me to Reno.
My sister promised me a nice dinner if I could get there before dinnertime and who am I to reject such an offer?
My middle name is “Food.”
Usually after my burn, it takes a good two to three months for me to start getting into Burning Man again.
In fact, I usually swear that “I’ll never go back” because I’m so overflowing with experiences and community that I get overwhelmed and want to just stop the madness for a while.
Not so, this burn.
This burn, I’m ready to go back.
And I’ve been super nostalgic about my burn in the first place.
Of course, I have FOMO – the fear that I missed out on some essential experiences at Burning Man, but overall I’m pretty happy with my burn.
I made drinks for people.
I ate freeze-dried food.
And I lived in community with 40 AMAZING individuals for a week in the desert with whom I had all sorts of adventures.
Friends of mine held a Dust Off – a decompression party after Burning Man where you bring your unused food and adult beverages and share their dusty goodness with other partygoers decompressing with you.
I wasn’t able to make the Dust Off this year on account of I had an overnight date with Stargazer in Pacifica.
Yes, I said OVERNIGHT!
It’s like I’m an adult or something living my life and having all sorts of fun.
I am missing my burn.
Missing Nadine and her kid.
Missing all my campmates who are unbelievably beautiful and radiant human beings.
For the first time since I started burning in 2015, I ACTUALLY MISS BURNING MAN even in my refractory phase.