I was early to the Burning Man backlash. I avoided taking drugs in the desert long before it became a corporate team-building event. Growing up in Berkeley was enough. All I had to do to see people dancing naked with body paint was walk down the street. Sculptures, art, lunacy, music, it was normal. By the time folks burned a giant wooden man on Baker Beach while drumming with bones through their noses, I had developed an aversion to all things Woodstock-y. I love that it happened, and I love the music that come from it, but giant gatherings of stoned people make me nervous. Now it’s rich vs. richer stoned people with their apps and chefs, and the remaining shreds of counter-culture dangerousness are waning from it, and that’s normal. Soon it will be Budweiser Presents Burning Man and Google buses will arrive by the dozen. Maybe there will be an uprising, as not-so-rich burners rebel against the gentrification of their beloved ritual. I wonder what Burning Man riot police would look like? I’m guessing they’d have glowing neon nightsticks and hover-cars, maybe their own deejay truck with some dubstep theme music. The whole thing could be filmed as a reality show and they could sell tickets to enjoy the experience virtually from afar if you don’t want to actually die in the desert. Heck I might even go if I could stay home.
