Well, I haven’t even left for Burning Man and I’m already having to adapt to the “no expectations, no plans” dogma that dominates the playa. I’m quite the control freak when it comes down to it (just ask Heidi, who fed my rats while we were in France — I left her what was amounted to a fully annotated FAQ handbook on how to put a scoop of rat kibbles into a bowl), and Burning Man is always a good exercise in letting that all go. Thought I was leaving today? Oh, of course not, as we scramble for a trailer for our bikes and negotiating last minute company barbecues and people just returning from family trips. It’s all fine. I’m on vacation, so regardless of all else: I’m happy.

Meanwhile, I think I’ve packed virtually every article of clothing I own. I didn’t go all out with costumes this year, since realistically I have plenty of freaky clothes already. Just wait till I put the neon pink “Dancing Queen” panties together with the orange leg warmers and bright red elf coat. In Black Rock City, the lines between fashion, function, and social psychosis blur terribly, with wonderful results.

I anticipate having internet access on the playa (although we all know what anticipating anything means: it probably won’t happen), so while you shouldn’t expect much out of me for the next week, I may post a picture or two.