So, there's this bomb that has a long tradition in Seattle. Arts groups have stolen the bomb from each other for well over a decade. Its been in the hands of INB, Stronghold, Arson Island/Machine camp and several others dating back over a decade. The bomb is about 7-feet long, and weighs about 200 lbs. Its an old vietnam test bomb as far as we can tell, decomissioned of course.

Back in 2007, we brought the bomb and camped next to a group out of Eugene called Carbofuckingnation. As should be expected from our camp, there was a bit of pranking that ocurred, including slingshotting snack packs of pudding into their camp. At the end of the week, we realized that we were short one bomb.

Before TEITD this year, several members of our camp spent some time trying to figure out where the bomb ended up, to absolutely no avail. Most people thought Amani knew, and she was bombarded (heh) with inquiries.

When we got to Burning Man this year, our camp members were reading through the what/where/when (something that usually does not happen until the end of the event, mind you) and found this post:
http://earth.burningman.com/brc/2009/playa_event/742/

"We took your bomb as our trophy in '07, come claim it! We want: Proof, Liquor, Sexual Favors, and something... fantastic. We're in the same spot we were in '07."

It was clear at that moment what must be done.

We rolled in later that night with the treehugger/spinal tap bus (ugliest "art car" ever) and the Birthday Cake filled to the brim with candy ravers. We sent in the ravers with the instructions that this was our camp, the drinks were free and plentiful, and that the more surly people were the more free drinks they would get.

While the ravers were creating the distraction me and chris airola removed the bomb and ran it back to the treehugger bus and we began our escape. Running with the bomb is hard, and I fell. Lots.

Did I mention I was wearing a leather full-body captain america jumpsuit? I was wearing a leather full-body captain america jumpsuit.

As we were making our escape, their camp members reached into the hole left by the bomb and grabbed snack packs of pudding (genius) and began pelting us with them as we drove away. "DON'T FORGET YOUR PUDDING!"

We had planned to rendezvous with the cake at the wedge (for those that didn't go, the wedge was a giant 2-story astroturf slip n slide that was responsible for more injuries than anything else at burning man this year:
  http://www.flickr.com/photos/shaynakatherine/3912014824/)

I knew what must be done.

I got a crew of 6 or so people to haul the bomb to the top of the wedge, and some rope to rig a bit of a handle onto the front. I had already been advised by several of my attorneys that what I was about to do was a BAD idea. I agreed and ignored their advice.

Did I mention I was wearing a leather full-body captain america jumpsuit? I was wearing a leather full-body captain america jumpsuit.

I straddled the bomb, grabbed my ghetto rope handle. A very large clearance in the crowd was made and a wall of somewhat cushiony things was made at the bottom. I got a big push.

I made it about 1/2 way down before the bomb tipped me over, i bear-hugged it the rest of the way down, crashed through the wall and went about another 15 or so feet beyond that. It was a good thing I was wearing full leather, cuz the rugburn would have been terrible. I escaped unscathed and with no collateral damage amongst the onlookers.

The bomb is once again back home and I had one of my favorite nights ever at burning man. I hope, oh how I hope, just one person got a picture.

Being different.  It's one of the things that binds us as a community.  Different from the social norm, different from one another.

But as I found out last night - after three hours of hell and refusal into the country - the Canadian border guards don't share this enthusiasm.  

At the crossing - on the way to the White Trash party

guard: Why are you coming into Canada?
me: To visit a friend.

guard: What's the name of this friend?
me: Dylan Cole.  Sorry Dylan - yours was the first to pop into my head.

guard: How do you know this friend?
me: We're in the same community of artists

guard: What's the name of this community?
me: Burning Man

At which point the conversation stopped.  The guard pulled out a white slip, wrote "Burning Man" on it, and asked me to pull over into one of the stalls.

Differences.  Mine's subtle.  I'm a successful businessman, husband of 23 years, father of two incredible kids, and an active member of my community.  Normal except for one thing.  I dislike the appearance of success.  The outward "I've got it and you don't" facade that you see (and might expect) from someone with my history.

It's my differences that went wrong.  They don't like to see someone who says they're a CEO of a software company driving an 85 chevy van, with a bunch of white trash clothes in the back.  They don't like that I enjoy working on my own vehicles, and like to carry around tools when they break.  They didn't like that my van has a bed in back, where I could live.

I was guilty of the appearance of going to Canada to look for work.

For the next 3 hours, they ripped my van apart piece by piece.  They accused me of things my mother wouldn't think of.  Naked pictures on my iPhone didn't help, but I'm a lifecaster.  And a burner.  All respectful images.

And in the end, when they couldn't find anything, they turned me around and told me to go back to the US. They handed me a paper telling me to bring proof of wealth and stability next time I try crossing.

I'm proud of being a burner.  I like that I'm accepted for who I am, and not what I look like.  But at the border there isn't time for that.  They're taught to make decisions based on appearance.

Next time I cross, I'll "get ready" like I do for any other party. 

Only my costume will be "normal", and I won't mention Burning Man. 

What was I thinking?

Last year was my first year in BRC. While making my way to one of the banks of porta-pottys, I came up to one of many baffling and incredible scenarios I will always remember with a huge grin on my face. I was waiting to use the lou when I noticed a large gathering of people surrounding another porta-pottie nearby. I looked over and this girl motioned for me to come over and just as I was about to ask what was going on, she shushed me and I noticed that everyone was being extremely quiet.

Surveying the scene further I noticed a giant art car with a podium on the front of it and a large mirror ball dangling on a pole over the crowd gathered. Also there was a long red carpet from the art car to the outside of one of the porta-pottys with a beautiful lady dressed a bit like Vanna White standing just outside the door. I could hear people whisper "the winner of Burning Man is in there!" I realized then that whoever was in the porta-potty was going to come out eventually and have this crowd and scenario to deal with. I was grinning and noticed everyone around me was also. I took out my camara. So did everyone else.

The door finally opened and the crowd went wild with applause and cheers. It took me a split second to realize that the person who had stepped out was  my campmate and friend Sparkle Pony. I couldn't believe it, I was lauging now with tears streaming down from my eyes.  She was one of the few people that I knew there and she handled this scenario better than I would have had I been the one to stumble into this (i.e. heart attack or mild stroke or something). She was presented with a huge trophy, composed of many trophys fused together  and told "Congratulations you are the winner of Burning Man!" (which is the equivalent in absurdety to winning Woodstock). She was also handed a megaphone on which she proclaimed, "Thanks to all of you for waiting for me while I was in my Purple rooom."