Phew.

Saturday night was the culmination of the GOTT conference: an all night most of the day desert gathering. The folks down here have it relatively easy: now that they’ve figured out the “real” rules of BLM land, they can pretty much have non-profit gatherings whenever they need to. Clever.

Moontribe affiliated events don’t get started before midnight, and I think the soundsystem at this event was up just around 2am. Andeas DJed (his first desert party DJing–I was bursting with pride) around 3am, and I believe for the first time ever, I met someone who was like “Oh, Ariel? You’re Andreas’ girlfriend!”

The look on my face was of such shock that the person actually apologized. “Er, I met him today and he said you two had come down together–uh, I’m sorry?” I brushed aside his apology and apologized in turn for my shock. Andreas has dealt with been “Mr. Ariel” for years, thanks to my working for Lotus, so I guess it’s time for a shift. It was sort of neat, actually. I mean, I guess. Dre played really really well (with the one exception of when a gust of wind dragged his needle across a record–but he recovered quickly and all those desert dancers are more than used to the havoc the desert plays on vinyl.

I spent much of the evening hanging out with Trevor aka Driver, from Vancouver BC. He earned his nickname the hard way, first by driving to LA from BC alone (that’s about 22 hours, folks), then driving Ra Ra’s Geo Tracker across town (the vehicle almost didin’t have a first gear. And there was one hill that it simply couldn’t make it up–we had to back down and try again. The car was shite), then rallying Roman’s Nissan through a patch of exceptionally soft sand that ate half a dozen cars. Driver and I had fun…and Nancy (Scott’s girlfriend–they came down from Seattle for the conference) owed me a favor. So WHOOSH! The night was off!

I danced my ass off until the sun came up, then (after a brief make-out session with Dre as the sun just peaked over the nearby mountains) got a chill and spent an hour wrapped in someone’s blanket, sitting by a speaker and people-watching. Great fun. Dancers from Florida, Colorado, Seattle, BC, Santa Fe, San Francisco, and of course Los Angeles, each with their own signature movements. Seattle/BC: grindy, heavy, fluid. LA: twirly, stompy, airy. Colorado: liquid pop, yo. Florida: down to earth ravehop. It was wonderful, even if I was cold.

My chill was soon remedied by scorching heat. It was the perfect temperature for maybe an hour or so, then it started burning. Even with my SPF 30, I started to swelter, and after 11am, despie a sedative, I was crabby as hell. I told some web dreamer (looked and acted exactly like “Comic Book Guy” from the Simpsons, except with red hair) that his idea for gayraver.com was not good.

ME: “How are you supporting it? Banner ads? Sponsorships? Subscibers?”
HE: “*scoff* Certainly not banner ads! At this point I’m just doing it out of my own pocket.”
ME: “Huh. That’s not very sustainable, is it.”

I whined constantly to myself about having to pee every 15 minutes. It was like Burning Man: Drink, walk to place to pee, pee, walk back, drink more water, walk to place to pee, pee, walk back, etc. I did run into some hilarious people, however.

The scene: walking along a sandy path next to a small desert mountain.
The Girl (me), wearing light blue backless apron shirt and jeans, eyes slightly dilated, looking for a place to pee.
Boy (wearing a red shirt, and with woman friend) approaches, smiling.
Boy (with enormous eyes): “Hey, I know you! I was in your group [GOTT conference discussion group about venue safety].”
Girl: “Yeah, I remember you: You were in my group!”
Boy: “Group? What group? I’m sorry, I’m really high.”
Girl: “Uh, the discussion group? At GOTT?
Boy: “Really? Did I say that?”
Girl: “Ha ha! Um, I think so!”
Boy (deeply confused): “Well, I…group? Um…”
Boy’s friend in silver cowboy hat: “Hey, I’m going to save you here: Remember you asked me to make sure you made it to the dance floor?”
Boy (as he turns to walk away, our chat instantly forgotten): “Oh! Yes! Right!”
Girl (shakes head, realizes head shaking makes urge to pee worse): “Glad I’m not THAT fucked up.”

Girl turns to walk away, stumbles over rock and almost falls over.

Despite my becoming a cracked out overheated crabby bitch at noon, it was a great party, people dancing until 3pm or so. I hid in the shade. I like desert parties, but I like leaving them around 11am. If I’m going to be at an outdoor event that goes on and on, I’d rather it go on and on underneath trees. Call me softcore, I don’t care. My webbed toes can’t take dancing in 100 degree heat. Fah!!

Eventually (3:30pm) it was time to go home. Andreas, Ra Ra, and I were the lolling asleep heads in the back of Roman’s car. My neck is sore, but I went home to Megasoul’s abode, took a shower, and went to bed at 6:30pm and slept until almost 8am today. I feel much better, and am rejuvinated by all the wonderful people I met this weekend. Ahh…