Sunday Was A Good Day

Yet more campers came to join us.

We all had morning cocktails.

The kids did yet another thing you can't do during Burning Man.

Into town we went. I strolled around behind the gas station. Cabover, check. Crane, check. Prehistoric fish, check. Dump truck, check.

Drove and drove with seventeen people and two dogs in the Power Wagon until we found a reservoir to swim in.

The earthen dam.

The view from the earthen dam. Ain't Nevada bitchin'?

Yeah, them people's skinny-dipping. Look close!



Now what the hell's going on here?

OMG! It's ... it's ... !

People were gathered ...

... converged upon the LZ ...

... drawn together in their numbers ...

... to face ... the dreaded Frogbat!

A normal person might say this where it got weird.

But ... it's Nevada.

Worse yet, Burners in Nevada. Burners with guns. Because guns are not allowed at Burning Man.

And true to form, a clump of sage was set afire unintentionally.

But the heroes took care of it before a wildfire could race to the road and claim a hundred vehicles. I was looking forward to that, but alas.

We (by which I mean not the seventeen-member Team Power Wagon mentioned above, but your intrepid reporter, some other dude, and four leggy chicks in their twenties) wandered over to the famous Frog Pond where a bunch of people were camped and had set up a wine bar (free drinks, of course) under a tree hung with lights and a music system. To get a cup you had to submit to a spanking, which I did gladly. But the twenty-something who administered it, typical of children her age, couldn't put any back into it. So that was lame but I got a drink. Meanwhile a youngish couple in tattoos and fur overcoats and not a whole lot else tried to fuck on the bar (too high) and settled for a public blow job, while the pond itself continued to marinate a small crowd of naked neo-hippies. The scene wasn't a grabber, actually, so we left.

Found the party (again) at IA (see previous post). They had it going on, DJ and all, and that took care of us into the wee hours.

Sunday was a good day.