(a.k.a. Cyclecide’s Best Party Ever)
(a.k.a. how the hell are we going to top this for Pedal Monster in September)
July 20, 2008
Cyclecide Office Olympics presents: Office Chair Slalom!
October 4, 007
Gerlach, NV
It is with semi-tight shoulders that I report to you that the Black Hole got a yellow on the MOOP map this year.
Yellow. Not green.
We tried. We tried so hard. We cleaned up all the big stuff and put it in the right trailers and boxes and oversaw transpo and then MOOPed our asses off. Busting dunes by hand with a rake. Digging out burn scars. Going over and over the site. Staying later than the other crews each day and using whiskey as a work tool. *burp*
C-Load came out for the weekend to do line sweeps with us. When we found out we were near the Black Hole, we strolled ahead one block to make sure we’d cleared everything. There was nothing there. One cigarette butt, maybe. I didn’t pick up a damn thing and I even full-contact MOOPed the site — crawling on my hands and knees through some newly-formed dunes in chicken pants and a tank top, killing two birds with one stone. Skin exfoliation feels nice.
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Yesterday was the last day of Burning Man cleanup on the playa. Today, the Bureau of Land Management came to inspect the site, to see if the DPW did a good enough job picking up after 48,000 people.
We passed with flying, pirate-flag, I’ll-show-you-Leave-No-Trace colors.
The Golden T-Stake, pounded in at the end of the City map on 10:00, was the last large foreign object remaining from Burning Man on the playa. To celebrate another job well done, we all gathered this afternoon to watch it get pulled out of the ground by the Playa Restoration managers.
After a morning spent cleaning the trailer park and waiting for last night’s party to wear off, we ate lunch and climbed on the bus for one last ride to the worksite.
This is the opposite of the Bonneville pictures I took.
Fall has come, suddenly.
The rains came too, last night. For hours. And wind — enough to shake the trailer and rock me to a fitful sleep. This morning, it was no surprise when Coyote and D.A.’s call came in from the playa: Too wet. Today will now be about cleaning up personal camps and trailers and preparing to leave in 10 days.
13 and I went to the ranch to handle some Gate business. That place has changed since the days when the DPW used to live there a couple months out of the year. Mainly, it’s not a giant mess any more. A lot of work has been done. It no longer feels like home, not like the days of Jalisco’s / Palmer’s and bucket bombs and flaming redneck soccer. It feels like work. Progress. (sigh)
Then on the way home we visited the “Salty Balls” playa. (We don’t know the real name.)
The Ladies' Guide to the Apocalypse 