I had known about Burning Man for years. For several seasons I had joined side events: our camp built an art sauna out in the desert. But that year I wasn\u2019t planning to go anywhere. We were living with my wife and our newborn son in a cozy house outside Buenos Aires, running our business and enjoying a calm, steady life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then a message popped up in a friends\u2019 chat: someone was selling Burning Man tickets for the day after tomorrow. I stared at the screen, realized this might be my only chance, and of course I grabbed three plane tickets for that very evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat? We\u2019re flying in four hours?\u201d my wife asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But this wasn\u2019t our first spontaneous trip, and she quickly agreed. We each packed a tiny carry\u2011on, threw in our favorite Burner costumes (\u201cyou should always know where your Burner costume is\u201d, D. Adams), and headed for the airport. Evening Buenos Aires blurred by outside the taxi window, we raced through traffic, barely made our flight, sprinted through security, collapsed into our seats, and that\u2019s when it hit me: I am flying to Burning Man.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the plane I opened a list from my friend, the legendary \u201clist of things you absolutely must bring.\u201d Around a hundred items, some of them bizarre. Nasal spray. Dust masks. A bicycle. I scrolled through and realized: not a single one of these things was in our luggage. And it was far too late to change anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We landed, rented a Jeep, grabbed coffee by the San Francisco bridge and entered straight to Walmart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After an hour I was starving. After two hours I wanted a divorce. After three, a friend dropped me a message: \u201cHey, can you bring another twenty bikes for the camp?\u201d Five hours in, our son spiked a fever, and it became clear I\u2019d be driving to the desert alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We crammed everything into the car. Stopped in a McDonald\u2019s parking lot to unpack boxes and ditch extra packaging. Obviously there are no trash bins in the desert. I left my wife and son at a hotel in Rino, and at exactly midnight I drove through the gate. That was the start of an adventure I\u2019ll never forget.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now, for anyone crazy enough to try something like this here\u2019s how to do it properly. To pull off a spontaneous Burning Man trip, you need two things:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
- a remote assistant<\/p>\n\n\n\n
- a friend in San Francisco<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The step\u2011by\u2011step plan:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
1. Buy your plane ticket<\/p>\n\n\n\n
2. Your assistant orders all one hundred items from the list on Amazon Prime, shipping them to your friend\u2019s address.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
3. You land in the US, your stuff is already waiting in the garage, you pack in a couple of hours, and you\u2019re off to the desert. That\u2019s it. You\u2019re magnificent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
See you on the playa this year?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
P.S. To this day, I still get a nervous twitch when I see bicycles in a supermarket. And yes, this was 2023, the very year when, two days after I arrived, the entire desert flooded. But that\u2019s another story.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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