It never fails...
You make plans, buy stuff, make more plans, maybe make a few promises...
You fully intend to do all those things you said you'd do, meet those people you've been wanting to meet, and who wanted to meet you, but the second your feet touch down on the Playa, everything flies right out the window.
It goes slowly at first, but by the end of the week it's out of your control. Playa time. When "I'll be there in an hour" turns into "See you next year!" and you have no idea how that could have happened. I have as good an excuse as anyone I guess, I was working for the Gate department most of the time. Partying my ass off and having the time of my life, but working nontheless.
Even when I wasn't working at the Gate I would often find myself there, or in the vortex appropriately named The Black Hole, and even though I missed a fuckton of cool shit, I was right where I needed to be usually. Fuck what you heard, the real party is the one behind the scenes, primarily before and after the actual event.
So while I am truly sorry I didn't get to meet anyone I was so looking forward to meeting, I'm not THAT fucking sorry, because in the end it was you who really missed out, and not me. If that sounds a little conceited, I don't mean for it to, because it's not really about me or any one person in particular, although I did meet some of the truly great ones. It's the combination of all the eclectic and unique individuals and our common goal that makes The Pirates so goddamn special. If you see the pirate ship coming get the fuck out of the way, because we WILL run your hippie ass over!
But that's not what this blog entry is about, oh no. More on the Pirates later perhaps but for now I'd like to take a moment to try and convince my other Burner friends that I am not completely full of shit. A tall order perhaps but I believe I'm up for it, mainly because I've got the truth on my side. I arrived on Playa the Thursday before the start of the event and with all my plans, hopes, and dreams still very much intact. The next day after helping erect a giant bottle of Ketchup I worked my first shift at the Gate and became violently ill.
I had Gate Fever, a nasty ailment whose symptoms include but are in no way limited to: Euphoria, right-on'ness, a sense of accomlishment and belonging, and mass alcohol consumption with no intoxication, which can lead to workaholism. I lost an uncle to workaholism, and it wasn't pretty, there were pie charts, graphs, and alphabetically filed receipts everywhere man.
There is no cure for Gate Fever, and once infected it will almost certainly kill you. I guess it's not such a bad way to go...
To Be Continued...
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