I dreamed I was in a Simpsons episode, and then it got weird… I was up at sunrise, another beautiful Sun rising over the playa Wednesday, August 28th. The weather had really been wonderful all week. I got out the stove and cooked myself a bowl of ramen noodles for breakfast. A paraglider engine hummed as it passed overhead.

 

It was a surprise to find out Colleen was leaving early that day. She had responsibilities back home she needed to take care of. Colleen tried taking a picture of me, but it ended up too dark. Of all the pictures taken at Burning Man over the years, I only had a couple of me. She gave me a hug before she left. It was great to see her again.  Folks liked the “lazy-ass bartending guides” I made up for the bar. It was a list of mixed drinks you could make with only 2 ingredients.

I showed up at Ranger HQ for my afternoon shift. I picked up my radio, and right as I turned around Ranger Keeper asked if there were any Green Dots around. I raised my hand, and she had me follow her to the back. It seemed there was a situation at Station 9, the med tent across from Outpost Tokyo. She told me to grab a partner and head on over there. Out front, I picked Ranger Raconteur and we headed out on our bikes. We were a little late because I got turned around. Inside the med tent, a girl was having an anxiety attack. It was about an hour before she felt good enough to go back to her camp. Raconteur walked with her, and I followed until she was in a safe place.
 
When we got back to Tokyo, Ranger Magnum asked us to hold down the fort while he went to get a bite to eat. While he was gone, we got to meet his wife, who came by looking for him. It was a nice day; hot, of course, because it was the desert, but with a slight breeze. A participant reported someone unconscious under a trailer. It was out of our area so I called it in. Duney Dan stopped by to say hi. He said Kimistry was at Outpost Berlin, so I said I’d pay her a visit.  Two guys reported one of their campmates had been missing for 12 hours. We filed a report.
 
As we were holding down the fort, someone from Playa Bike repair (PBR) came in to report a person had passed out. Someone else said they would watch the outpost, so Raconteur and I hurried over. The camp was just a block or so away. The guy was lying on the ground under one of the camp’s semi trailers. He was conscious and talking, but unable to stand up. I called for one of the medics from Station 9 to check him out. The medic looked him over for a few moments and then told me he needed an ambulance. So, we called it in, and kept the road cleared until the ambulance arrived. As soon as the paramedics saw the patient, they got him in the ambulance and spirited him away. Whatever it was, it got taken care of right away. I had a feeling we might have saved that guy’s life.
 
I called in that the medics had cleared us. Khaki replied, confused as to what we were doing in that area. I explained we were on a Green Dot call at Station 9, were on our way back to fill out the paperwork when we got asked to help out at Tokyo, and then answered a medical call. Khaki replied, “The things that happen on your way back to HQ…” We were sent to Center Camp to look for a black van that wasn’t supposed to be there. We never found one, but I did talk with the cool guys who were driving the USS Nevada art car. When we finally got back to HQ, Raconteur filled out the Green Dot paperwork while I went to the Operator shack to add details to our incident reports. A nice Ranger named Vivid helped me out.

 

We got sent out to investigate a squatter in somebody’s camp. It was the God’s Vending Machine Camp, and they really had a big vending machine. When you put in a token, it would give you something you needed. Raconteur got some gummy worms, and I got a package of spicy ramen noodles. I talked to the squatter, a guy in the big RV. I explained to him the camp had more people coming and needed the room. We looked at a map of the city and found him a new place to park. He promised he would be gone by 6 PM.  A photographer was looking for a group of photographers, and in no time we were surrounded by people with cameras and tripods. They all left as a group.

By then, it was the end of our shift. Raconteur explained to me what “unicorns” were in the poly community. He said a unicorn was a hot, young bisexual who was really into threesomes; they’re called unicorns because “they don’t exist.” After we checked our radios back in, I updated the Operators and headed for the commissary with my meal ticket. When I stopped to pick up some moop, a pretty girl said, “I’ve been doing that all day.” Her name was Anastasia, and she was camped at 4:30 and C. I saw Jeopardy at supper, but didn’t see Raconteur again.
 
Back at camp, my inflatable mattress deflated again. I said the heck with it and got the foam mattress out of the van. Wolf mixed up a batch of what he called Purple Jesus, which he said was like “an adult slurpee.” It had a kick to it. I met Wildcard, who was worried about his feet and borrowed my bottle of vinegar. Someone in the bar talked about “layering” his drugs: he would take one drug, and if he timed taking the second drug right, he could be stoned twice as long. (I thought it was because he took twice as many drugs.) Airplanes dropped parachutists over the inner playa.