YAY!

Burning man.  Oh you big, beautiful basket of weird.   Although I’ve never actually attended, I have a hunch that these are my kind of people.  Heck, these are everybody’s types of people.

 

The heartbeat of the festival is generated by hundreds of well-stocked, colorful and extreme theme camps that pop up every few steps.  For example, there is an anglers camp which brings their own lagoon.  There is a camp with an ellipsoidal dome where one finds their automated subconscious.  (I have no idea what that means nor the hallucinogens it includes.)   There is an oasis for wayward beavers, too.  The options are plentiful, but If I had my choice, I’d be in the Yay Camp.

I found out about the Yay Camp as we were divvying up this year’s Gore Tex Trans-Rockies assignments.  Scott had requested to attend the beginning of the event as he had plans to “head to Black Rock City, Nevada, for a long weekend in the desert” immediately after the race.  A long weekend in the Nevada Desert, hmmm?  Oh, and you are going in late August/early September?  I know where you are going, Scotty.  I KNOW.

As I researched a theme camp for Scott to join,  I found a  little story that made me smile from ear to ear.  Yay!

Since the rest of us will not be heading into the dusty bliss to create  beautiful art with 48,000 of our potential best friends, we are scheming a social experiment to spend an afternoon of Yaying.  Perhaps we should Yay for Gordon’s birthday.  (FYI- Gordon is the boss.  Thus, his birthday marks a National Holiday at OutsidePR. Last year, we honored the Chief by surfing at Ocean Beach and followed it up with tasty beers at Beach Chalet.)

Our Yay Camp might not hold a candle to that of Burning Man’s Yay Camp in size, but we will rival them in spirit and heart.  And with that, I think I just made a Yay Camp into a competition.  I’ve got to stop doing that.

 

(By the way, as I was writing this post, I sent on the Yay link to my coworkers.  The whole office is yaying right now.  Smiles are beaming off faces.  Well, everyone’s face except Sam’s.   Never trust an intern.)