Where can you go to have your breasts painted, see/become/participate in art, sleep on a trampoline, drink free booze for five days straight, and meet a Superman from Switzerland who can break into your car?
Well, Burning Man, of course.
Ladies and Gentlemen, if you have not been, we are going together next year.
Burning Man, as I have been explaining since I have returned, is a combination between a carnival, an amusement park, a gallery, a magic spell, Christmas, Hanukkah, the Rocky Horror Picture Show, camping, and an American attempt at Utopia.
Things go up in flames at Burning Man.
Things are magic petals at Burning Man.
Things are hot and dusty at Burning Man.
I fell in love on the Playa - with the Playa.
The fact that I was taken away on Sunday in a Ford Explorer bound for Los Angeles was cramped and sad compared to the love fest that Burning Man was, that the desert was.
I am very tan. I am covered in burns and cuts.
Burning Man is an intense adventure where one could be playing pool one minute and being bathed by an almost-stranger the next.
I took a magic love potion, ran away from a 17 year old who tried to kiss me, had a guy guess where I live by my zip code, saw a double rainbow, drank absinthe, survived two major dust storms, and Journeyed with a Shaman who was also giving out Sno-Cones.
I slept 17 hours yesterday.