I’m upside down dressed only in glitter. Playing guitar. Behind me has assembled a group of backup dancers, a fiddler and what I think was a vocalist.
We’re in the middle of the nevada desert. I’m on the main stage at burning man. I had just changed my name to Ravi; it’s the first week of classes at the only Buddhist college in the US. The day before my therapist told me that I should have some fun. Leaving his office a woman I met the day before asked me if I’d like to tag along.
So naturally I accompanied the hari krishnas to the greatest party on earth in the middle of the desert. Upon arrival it was about ten minutes before I was dressed in glitter riding atop a solar powered triceratops with “The Burning Milfs” a friendly group of mothers who made sure that everyone had enough condoms and rolling papers to ensure that their trip was encased with the appropriate wrappings. A genius idea…
…”you know this stage is only for professionals” one of the workers yelled to us. Strumming my guitar that had played both naked parties in new england blizzards and naked festivals in a nevada sandstorm I reply “We were asked to fill in for the main act.”
The funny thing is that I was dead sober. If it weren’t for that car crash, lord knows where I would have wound up.