Well its official. My parents just bought their tickets to Burning Man. I have this idiot grin on my face right now. The feeling is hard to explain. My folks will be trekking down to Nevada in their VW microbus to join in on the biggest counter cultural orgy in the world today. Do they have any idea what they’re getting into?
My parents aren’t exactly conservative, they’re rather liberal, open minded people. Otherwise where the hell would I have come from? Even so, they’re hardly hippies… well maybe they are, but not hardcore hippies, microbus aside. Mom wants to paint it, I don’t think dad wants to. That’s for them to sort out.
What I envision is this. Dad will be totally shell shocked for a couple of days and mom will bury herself in the event guide, seeking out labyrinths and meditation workshops. Around Wednesday dad will break through his barrier and start running around naked and scaring the locals with his enthusiasm – and they’ll love him for it. Mom will be mortified.
We’re going to camp apart. I don’t need my parents listening to labored breathing and moans coming from my tent, nor do I need them to see me bent around a wormhole thanks to some psilocybin mushrooms talking to the Eyes of God about my quest for immortality. Parents worry and worry is the last thing you want at the Burn. I don’t want to walk them through it either. But… its going to be amazing to have them there.
Burning Man is sort of like my religion, my spiritual home, so it will be amazing and wonderful to bring them into that sanctuary with me. If I find mom at Spike’s Vampire Bar though… well I might be disturbed.