Part 3: Over the Rainbow

How to survive Burning Man, A life-saving guide.
-Don't drink a lot of alcohol, it will dehydrate you.
-Get at least 6 hours of sleep every night
-Eat three full meals every day, snack intermittently.
-Bring a more substantive sleeping structure than a tent, an RV or yurt is best
-Listen to your body
-Don't try to do everything at your first burn
-Don't mix multiple chemicals in your body 
-Take naps
-Take a day off
-Make sure to take a multi-vitamin
______________________________
0 for 10...F

Darkness consumes me.

I roll over and look at my sleeping bag, it is soaked in sweat and despite the fact that it is quickly approaching 95 degrees I am shivering in my tent.

I start doing the basic math in my head, this is now my 6th day in 100 degree + temperatures, I have been averaging three hours of sleep per night, drinking heavily and eating next to nothing. I peer into our supply tent and grab an MRE, the physical exertion from standing up is too great and I crumble down. I am finally able to pull some pesto chicken out of a bag but it's too late. I can't eat, can barely keep any water down. I try to smash some electrolytes and quickly vomit everywhere.

I am going to die out here.

My mind goes to the gutter. Why didn't I listen? Why did I start drinking at 10am every day? Why did I break up with that girl four years ago, maybe we would be married with kids and I would have never come to this god forsaken place.

I spend portions of the next 12 hours drifting in and out of consciousness.

I have been hungover before, it is uncomfortable.

I think I have even experienced early symptoms of withdrawal before, but that was in the comfort of my own home.

You never want to be sick in a 5 person Coleman tent in 105 degree weather while a bunch of Icelandic models are throwing an Alice in Wonderland themed rave next door.

It was a comparable feeling to dying, yet instead of visits from family members and friends wanting to make their peace with me I would typically get an Eastern European who had stumbled into the wrong tent wondering if I was the guy with the acid.

24 hours I intermitently sat in that tent questioning every life decision I had ever made, weathering the category 5 storm attacking my conscience. I even dragged myself to a concert for a few minutes, laying face down in the dirt while Diplo played a Sunset show. Many people probably thought I was on mushrooms having a vision quest of sorts, I was merely focusing on breathing.

Thursday was not a great day.

I thought about giving up, I considered walking to the med tent and asking for an airlift to Reno. One of the Aspen kids had done that, fallen off a slide at the playground fracturing his ankle to little pieces. My parents would be upset about the $40,000 heli-rescue cost but they would probably get over it, maybe. Actually that might be a deal breaker.

Some guy brought me over a slice of pizza, he could tell I needed it, but the cruelest fate was that my body wouldn't let me consume it, just a worthless carcass of a human rotting away in the Nevada heat.

I promise if I survive this, I will never drink again.

And now a brief treatise on story structure from someone with no formal training in screenwriting.

Most stories follow a general three act structure, there is a beginning, middle and an end. In the romantic comedy or coming of age space there is typically some sort of road block near the end of the second act; a speed bump of sorts to keep our protagonist from his or her goal. Think How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days when Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey realize their budding romance was based on a bet. Or perhaps 10 Things I hate About You when Julia Styles realized that her romance with Heath Ledger was part of a bet. Or even more famously She's All That when Rachel Leigh Cook realizes...HER ROMANCE WITH FREDDIE PRINZE JR WAS BASED ON A BET!!!

Now, one can deduce the following from this. A. It is easy to write a bet-based romantic comedy centering on attractive white people in their 20's and B. story structure demands that something go wrong before an inevitable happy ending.

This is accomplished in several ways, typically the hero learns something about him or herself and then makes a 'desperate act' usually over a Gin Blossoms song or something and everyone lives happily ever after.

A coming of age story (and I suppose this is a coming of age story) follows a similar structure. Something bad happens, the hero (that's me!) overcomes adversity and learns a valuable lesson, take Sandlot for example. They lose the ball and spend a full week trying to get it back only to learn that they should have just knocked on the door and asked James Earl Jones if they could have it back.

I guess that lesson is honesty? Not to be a coward? PF Flyers are an underrated shoe? Unclear.

What would be my lesson?

What would be my learning moment?

I believe it was the great poet Katy Perry that said after a hurricane comes a rainbow...let's see how our hero responds.

PART 3: OVER THE RAINBOW

How to survive Burning Man, A life-saving guide.
-Don't drink a lot of alcohol, it will dehydrate you.
-Get at least 6 hours of sleep every night
-Eat three full meals every day, snack intermittently.
-Bring a more substantive sleeping structure than a tent, an RV or yurt is best
-Listen to your body
-Don't try to do everything at your first burn
-Don't mix multiple chemicals in your body 
-Take naps
-Take a day off
-Make sure to take a multi-vitamin
______________________________
5 for 10...still an F but better than 0.

I woke up Friday a new man, the birds were chirping, the clouds had parted, God smiled down on me. Today was my last day and I was going to learn from the mistakes of my past to make sure I had an enjoyable time and finished my burn on a positive no-

"Hey you!"

Me?

"Ya, you with the hair!"

Uh, what's up?

"Are you from California?"

I am.

I am on my way to the restroom when I am accosted by a man that appears to have been drinking for 3 hours, it is 9:58 in the morning. He is holding up a white board full of places and tally marks.

There are 21 tally marks next to both Ireland and California.

"Hey man, I'm Harry. Whichever place gets the most tally marks I am moving to for a year, until next burning man. I don't want to move to fucking Ireland. Ireland sucks. Will you please save me?"

Sure, what do I have to do?

"Beer bong breakfast!!!!"

Fuck, so much for that promise and a leisurely day of sobriety.

I look at my opponent, a young man from Dublin named Liam, he has a stamp on his forehead that declares him a virgin burner.

Even at 50% I know that Liam is no match for me, he looks scared, he looks like he wandered out for a corned beef hash and got bullied into chugging some premium American Kirkland Lights.

"GO!"

I take a knee and finish the beer before Liam has started, he spews unfinished lager all over the playa ground and the bros of 'Camp F*cking Awesome' start a MOOP* chant. Sorry Liam, welcome to the frat.

*Moop stands for Matter Out Of Place, it basically means don't litter at burning man, but some heroes think this translates to water and beer, these people are losers, if you spill your beer in the desert don't worry about it.

I've consumed a beer before 10am, but fortunately Harry won't have to spend a year in Ireland, I've done my good deed for the day.

I continue on to a sweat lodge at a nudist camp, hoping to remove all negative toxins from my previous day's battle. I am showered in eucalyptus and rose petal and by the time I leave that lodge I am ready to climb a fucking mountain. Last day of Burning Man, I am ready for you.

I scoop Andrew and we begin our day at Transfoamation, a group shower/foam party hosted by Dr. Bronner's organic soap. I fall in love with a Reno girl named Angela who is in a sake theme camp. I am clean for all of 15 seconds after the foam party, but I have a renewed vigor for life.

From the foam I am ushered into a hut where I am ordered to strip naked and am slathered in gold glitter paint by three strange women. I can tell you now that dirt will come off clothing, stains will come off clothing...glitter is forever.

Post bedazzling Andrew and I find ourselves at a White Trash Camp featuring bartenders from Hawaii that have created a drinking game involving dice and quite a bit of sexploitation. Matt the bartender walks up to the cutest girl at the bar and puts two dice in front of her, she rolls and no matter what the numbers say, be it 7, 12, 6 or even 2...UH OHHHHH BOOB LUGE.

In 30 minutes at the White Trash Camp I saw Matt do no less than 15 boob luges, I wonder if he made it back to Maui.

Next stop was some 3D Twister at a board game camp. Let me tell you, when you are expecting settlers of catan and you are instead granted 3d twister and vodka squirt guns, that will catch up with you.

The next thing I knew I was half naked playing Red Rover with a bunch of strangers from Calgary hoping I didn't break someone's arm,

When I look back on my experience now, it's hard to pin point the exact moment when I realized I was home. Was it when I was handed my guide book upon entry? Was it when I was swinging from a ring in a Pikachu onesie at Camp OKNOTOK belting out the lyrics to "I Just Can't Wait to be King" or was it when I decided on a whim 6 months ago that this might be a journey I should investigate.

The last night out in the Playa I wore a spaceman onesie. Either Jack or Nick wore it for Halloween seven years ago as part of an Armageddon costume. I remember walking by a camp that was throwing down a major party, everyone inside was likewise wearing spaceman costumes.

"Come in." Said a young woman in NASA get up, "We're about to take off."

Where are we going?

"Why the moon of course."

Of course.

I walked into the space party which was presumably on the moon and boarded a electric bull (because apparently they have electric bulls in space) I looked at one of the women operating it and told her that I thought I was losing my mind.

"That's ok. We all are. Just lean into it...and let go."

You can do anything or be anyone in Black Rock City. You can create a new name, new identity or just assume an exaggerated version of your true self.

You can do orgies, you can jump out of planes, you can participate in the literal boner jam at SLUTgarden. (20 naked men with personal fluffers compete to see who can get the first erection) you can run the American Ninja Warrior course, you can beat the shit out of someone, you can fall in love, you can sprint into a burning structure to go out in a blaze of glory.

I chose to bum around for a week with a friend and see what I could learn about myself, this world and the people in it.

Here are my findings.

People are good.

I forget this sometimes because it's easy blame other people, places and things for our own failings. It's LA's fault I'm unsuccessful or this person dicked me over and that's why I'm unhappy. A stranger cut me off on the freeway, a friend didn't return my call.

The truth is we are all responsible for our own lives, the cavalry is not coming to bail us out, the choices we make inform the realities that become.

Among those choices however are the people we choose to surround ourselves with, the communities we decide to join.

I cannot change the fact that a certain population of Los Angeles is shallow and will stop at nothing to get ahead. I cannot help the fact that others may feel me or my work to be inadequate. What I can do however, is in the face of adversity remain positive.

I had a shitty year. I lost a job, my show got cancelled, everyone in my family got sick, like REALLY sick, my bank account hovered around 0 plus or minus a couple hundred bucks and I had every excuse in the world to curl up in a ball and just fucking give up.

And for six months I thought the only light at the end of the tunnel for me was this stupid party weekend in the desert where I would find God and a miracle would happen that would change my life forever.

But this was untrue. What got me through the past six months was the power of friendship, the power of love; the people all around me and their unwavering support, the people that never stopped believing in me even when I quit on myself. What I traveled to the desert to learn was something that had been right under my nose the whole time, I was just too stubborn to see it.

Bad things happen to everyone, people go through rough patches and when it's happening to you it seems like no one in the world could possibly understand. Sometimes all we need is a little kick in the ass to remind ourselves that everything typically has a way of working itself out.

Burning Man didn't necessarily save me, but it very may well have saved me from myself. It's entirely possible that I will never work again, but you know what? I think I'm learning not to judge the entirety of my self-worth about my own personal elevator pitch.

"So Dave what do you do?"

I live in LA, I try to be a good friend, I love to write and go on adventures.

That's a far more accurate portrait of me than I'm a staff writer on some web comedy you probably don't watch.

My last day on the Playa I went to the Black Rock Post Office and wrote a letter to my future self. I can't remember exactly what it said, but it was something along the lines of 'Don't forget how you felt in this exact moment. People believe in you and love you, at least 80,000 strangers in the desert, and they don't even know how great you can be. Don't give up.' 

I promise I felt the same way you do now. It's a bunch of hippies in the desert doing blood sacrifices, it's a cult. I was mainstream, I was a conformist, I voted Republican in every election until 2016.

I'm glad to be a member of the community now, a group that doesn't care where you come from, what you look like, or what you're about. They'll welcome you with open arms. I look at the ten basic principles of Burning Man and, ya, I kinda roll my eyes, but also every idea has to be built on something.

I'm still not sure what I'm chasing. I'm not 100% sure what I'm looking for, but I think I'm on the right path now. I'm going to keep trying and I know I am going to be exactly where I'm meant to be.

I'll be back on the Playa next year, will you join me?

EXT. A DIRT ROAD IN NORTHERN NEVADA - SUNRISE

A black Mazda crawls down a dirt road as the hot desert sun begins to peak across a distant mountain range. Dust is kicked up as the car slows to a halt at a checkpoint. The driver rolls down the window and a weathered face looks in.

GATE AGENT

Coming Back in?

DAVE

Next year.

GATE AGENT

We'll be waiting for you.

The Mazda rolls up its window and accelerates onto a desolate two lane highway. It's 600 miles back to Los Angeles and nothing will ever be the same.

FADE OUT