BURNING MAN, SEX AND POO – not necessarily in that order
As I prepare for this year’s journey to Burning Man, I am reminded of a funny incident that happened last year. Burning Man is an annual event that takes place on the bed of an ancient dried up lake located about 100 miles outside of Reno, Nevada. Each year, about 70,000 people build and take apart a city of about seven square miles. One of the principles of Burning Man is “leave no trace,” meaning everything that you bring in, must be taken out. This includes food, water and trash. Even cigarette ash must be collected and taken out with you. The organizers provide several things to help the the “leave no trace,” mainly porta potties, hand sanitizers and if you are lucky, toilet paper.
As you can imagine, 70,000 people produce a lot of well, you know, so there are rows and rows of porta potties throughout the city.
The story I am about to tell you happened right outside one such row.
It was dusk. We had just finished a long session of sound and energy healing followed by a two-hour yoga class followed by about an hour of drumming. I was on cloud nine, in love with the world and my fellow human beings – to put it mildly. But love is love but when you gotta go, you gotta go. Heeding the call of nature, my friend Maria and I made our way to the closest row of porta potties.
As we waited in line for our turn to access a more or (more likely) less clean unit, a young guy approached me. Now, one of the interesting things about Burning Man is that people are polite yet straight forward. First, he asked me for a hug. “Sure,” I said after checking him out and deciding that he had passed my creepiness factor. We were next to a facility holding human excrement, kind of an odd place for a hug if you ask me, but it’s Burning Man, so why not. And the guy seemed sober, which is always a plus in my book.
It was a nice hug.
Then he asked if he could kiss me. “Sure,” I said after checking him out further and deciding that he had passed my hotness evaluation and verifying that we were up-wind so the smell coming from the porta potties was not too bad.
It was a nice kiss.
Then he asked me if I wanted to go to his car or my car to have sex. To this my reply was “why?” I figured that if he wanted to have sex with me, the least he could do was to explain why he wanted to do it. I was truly curios, what is going through a seemingly sober guy’s head that would motivate him to make advances on a woman who is shifting from foot to foot as she waits in line to go into a semi clean bathroom. I mean when I am in line to the bathroom, all I can think is the bathroom and different methods of avoidance of noxious fumes. If I were in his place I would wait until after a person uses the bathroom and preferably steps a safe distance away from poo to request sex. But I am not a guy so I figured it can’t hurt to get his take on the subject matter.
There were several acceptable answers he could had given me, including, “I’m hot, you are hot, it’s Burning Man.”
I seemed to have stumped him with my question because the poor guy went mute and started shuffling his feet. Seeing that he had trouble answering this simple question, I decided to help him by wrapping my arms around his neck, gazing deeply into his eyes and asking him where he is from. This confused him even further. He rolled his eyes up, looked at the sky and came up with a questionable story about being from Germany and visiting his cousin. This was followed by lots of details completely unrelated to the conversation.
He still had a chance, by the way. He was tall, he was hot, and I was loving the world at that moment. All he had to do was look back into my eyes and say something coherent and preferably complimentary. He was failing miserably on all accounts.
After about five minutes I decided to take pity on the guy and tell him that no, I do not want to have sex with him. His reply was “why?”
“I don’t feel like it,” I answered simply.
As this was happening, my friend Maria had finished with her business and was patiently waiting by the hand sanitizer, which was slowly becoming downwind from the porta potties. She was too curious to see what would happen to be aware of the threat to her olfactory senses posed by the upcoming aroma.
It all ended well, we parted as friends evidenced by a selfie he took on his phone.
Somewhere, possibly in Germany, on some guy’s phone, there is a picture of me, Maria and a guy whose name I’ll never know smiling next to a row of porta potties and trying not to breathe because by that time, we were fully downwind.
If you are coming to Burning Man this year, visit our camp: “You are Healer” at H 5:45 We are holding several amazing events including Reiki energy healing, crystals class and healing dancing meditation. And if you do decide to proposition a girl or a guy, I suggest you do it as far away from porta potties as possible. Although… poo does make for a good story… which, incidentally, may or may not had actually happened.
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