I’ve been with my husband, Dan, for 21 years. In over two decades, I had seen him cry about a dozen times.
This past week at Burning Man, I saw tears roll down his cheeks twice.
While this weeklong immersive experience is, to much of the outside world, considered just another “music festival” – a chance to dance and revel and party ‘til dawn… it is so much more.
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Burning Man 2024 was – for us and countless other attendees I talked to – the best one yet, and the most incredible event of our lives. Last year’s mud-ravaged Burn had been my favorite before. This year’s event eclipsed it.
That there were no major rainstorms or 9-hour dust storms certainly helped.
The art installations were incredible. Artists working with mega-sized palettes featured the diversity we’ve come to expect, from marriage equality to a Black barbershop and, of course, homage to the Alice In Wonderland theme of the event, “Curiouser & Curiouser.”
To be sure, we had countless hours of unbridled fun and joy. That is a huge part of the Burning Man experience. And the gays are a part of that.
Gay camp Pink Ponies threw a great opening party with DJ Simon Harrison. The GlamCocks drew in hundreds of revelers with sets from Conner Curnick and others. Random grilled cheese sandwiches at dawn, aerial pyrotechnic displays, and beautiful men like Gus Kenworthy and a host of others, dotted the week.
Yet my husband was moved to tears more in the last seven days at Burning Man than in the last two years.
As was I.
As the sun rose Wednesday morning, the music, visuals, people, and the milieu we experienced on the Playa were deeply emotional.
Most people outside the Burner world don’t know what Mayan Warrior is. For years it was an art car that – like Robot Heart – continued to add components like a toy Transformer set stuck in the 1980s. This year Mayan Warrior re-emerged and re-established itself as the ultimate destination on the Playa.
On Wednesday morning at this year’s Burn, the artistic, architectural, and technological geniuses behind Mayan Warrior outdid themselves, bringing both my husband and me to tears.
I’m a huge fan of Titanic’s End – an art car shaped like an iceberg with a sound system and technological brilliance to match its concept’s scope.
The people behind Long Feng – the double-headed dragon that dominated so much conversation on the Playa in 2024 – deserve credit. Long Feng made its Playa debut this year, hosting the (momentarily glitchy) wedding of the daughter of a Chinese billionaire as part of its unique week.
Yet it was the brilliance of Mayan Warrior that became so emotional for my husband and me on Wednesday morning.
“I love you so much,” Dan told me through the incredibly rare tears streaming down his cheeks. We hugged a hug I’ll never forget. I could feel his tears through my chest, pulsating with his breath.
Several days later, I saw his tears again.
For our last night on the Playa, we visited the Temple just a couple of hours before the Man burned. As all of the week’s art cars and Black Rock City denizens gathered for the week’s climax, we strolled through the emotional heart of Burning Man.
In the middle of all of the chaos – the parties and the talks and the lights and sound and food and human car wash – is the Temple.
Inside the Temple is virtual silence. At any point, dozens or hundreds of people wander through silently – holding back tears – reading the thousands of memorials to those lost by people attending the Burn.
We saw a letter to a 20-something Burner lost all too soon. Flowers drawn across the boards of wood for a mother who died weeks earlier and loved her garden. Two cats – a brother and sister – lost within a few months of one another. A musician in his 80s. People lost to terrorists. People lost to war.
I saw my husband cry again. For good reason. The overwhelming message of love and loss at the Temple was too much for even him to emotionally bear as he lost himself in emotion.
Our final hours at Burning Man were full of joy. We reflected on a week we will literally never forget. Friends we cherish. New friends we made and unique experiences we shared.
A Rüfüs Du Sol set with the gay camp Cockpit that still plays in my head. The Eye whose sound I could feel pounding in my chest.
“Gay” parties at Pink Ponies and Pink Mammoth. Sexy mornings at Future Turtles and the Down Low Club, looking endlessly amidst the crowd for our bikes, a moon on the horizon, stars in the sky and champagne at sunrise with our friend Martin.
Yet it’s that moment at Mayan Warrior on Wednesday morning and the stroll through the Temple that resonates.
As though the other couple thousand people disappeared on the Playa in front of the sparkling lights and LED screens, Dan looked into my teary eyes and told me – yet again – he loved me.
After reading so many of the messages to people lost, I won’t soon forget the lesson about life – and death – from the Temple.
Surrounded by all the craziness of Burning Man, those are the moments that linger.
Because that, even with the hundreds of nightly parties eclipsing anything else in the world, is the heart of Burning Man.
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