"How far?" says Serena with her legs propped up against the door and feet hanging out the window, letting the wind cleanse her toes.
"Bout' a mile. How's Jacky?!" I ask while forcing the gas pedal down, revving the engine and creating an aggressive purr. She's in a catatonic state last time I checked the back seat, not moving but with lots of unseen energy beneath the eye lids.
"Fine" mundanely states a dark haired man with shades pulled over his eyes and a drooping head: Ron, who sits in the front seat next to me, smoking a cigar we picked up from a gas station in San Francisco.
"No guys listen" shouts Serena from the backseat over the loud desert wind.. "She's wispering"
"What's she saying?"
No answer, I ask again, louder. Nothing. Am I actually making any noise? The wind seems to be getting more and more intense by the second. I screech the car to a halt on the dusty track beside the road and relish in the absence of noise. "What's she saying guys?" I shout angrily.
"For fuck sake Pete!" Reacts Jemma, shifting her position back upright in the seat "She just keeps saying she's sorry!"
I laugh "Right ok" and hit the gas.
We're about two hours away from Burning Man. We've been on the road since Austin, picking up hitchhikers and drifters. Our newest member is Hetty; we've had sex, twice.
"How's the sun?" asks Ron.
I ignore him, he's talking shit. My fingers grip the wheel like a hawk, i'm not crashing while we're this close.
"Do you think it'll be there?" says a girls voice from the back.
Hetty jumps up with excitement "Oh god Jacky, you're awake!" she exclaims.
I don't take my eyes off the road but I imagine Jacky looks like death incarnate, she threw up over herself about a half hour ago. It was horrible, we had to shake her limp carcass off like a rug. Then, to dry her off, we rolled her around in the sand. But instead of removing the sick from her clothes, the bile soaked up the sand into piles on her floral dress.
"Yes Jacky, why'd you think we've traveled this far?" This is our pilgrimage. You may have your Mecca, or your Jerusalem, we have Burning Man; the writhing centre for filth in america. The last supper for aristocratic youths. The only information we have of its inner workings comes from Ron, although you have to get him incredibly sober to have him part with it. I remember that Jacky is waiting for an answer.
"About half a mile" No one answers me. Truth is, not even I am confident with where we are, all I see in front of me is a long stretch of tarmac. I've always wondered, why do they bother with the road markings out here? Isn't it just too much effort to paint every single line in the middle of the road. I mean, people aren't exactly going to crash into each other, you can see a car coming even if it's an hour away.
Then I saw it. It started as a faint dot in the distance, didn't have a colour or anything, just a dot. I tried to see the bonfires, the tents, the party goers. But instead, all I saw was a dull blur. in the left corner of my eye.
"Can you see it guys?" I excitedly caw "Not far now"
It stayed a dot for about an hour before I could see a visable change in its size. As we got closer I saw it sparkling with movement. "We're nearly there guys" I scream. It gradually got closer and closer. I imagined all the amazing possibilities that would arise as soon as the car drew to a halt.
I park the car in the most secluded area possible, away from the main husk of tents, and start setting up.
"Excuse me sir, you can't park here" Says an arrogant voice out of no where. I look up and a 30 something latino stands surveying our Chevrolet. The desert sun bounces off the streaks of his pulled back hair, revealing stress creases along his giant forehead, so big you could seclude a whole pencil in them. You'd think that having a forehead like that, you would try and hide it with a fringe, but no.
"Anything you've got that I should know about, sir?" He sneers while keeping his eyes fixed on the trunk.
"Nothing that you need to know about, no"
He pauses, searching for something venomous "Well you can't park here, you need to be within the yellow tape". He points across the field to the main body of tents.
Before I can protest he grabs our camping equipment, Spoons, stove and steaks, and throws it atop the girls in the back.
"...Go on" He says with a hint of sarcasm.
We move next to a luxurious grey tent, complete with a plastic conservatory littered with what looks like yoga mats and playing cards.
"Now what is the fucking point of coming all the way out into the fucking desert to camp in something which resembles a fucking mansion?" Ron complains while slumping a industrial blue sheet of tarpaulin down on the dust.
"Tell me about it, fucking rich bitc-"
"Why hello there Neighbor" Over excitedly shouts a chunky looking lady wearing sweat pants pulled above her belly button, in an attempt to hide the ungodly amount of flubber hanging from her stomach. Globduals of fat sway from her calfs as she hops towards us. Her physique resembled that of a Tellytubby.
"What brings you rapscallions to our side of the village then?"
Rob sighs and turns back to pitching the tent. The tellytubby sees this and pauses with a sad look on her face, then forces the smile back on and turns to Jacky, strewn in the front of the car.
"Why goodness! What happened to you my darling" She loudly asks while skipping to the side of the car.
"I...." Stammers Jacky as she searches for an answer "I fell"
"What, You fell? Really?"
"God she is fucking annoying" Whispers Rob.
"Well how exactly did that happen?"
"I don't think she is going to go away man" Says Rob in an unnerved tone
"Where was it you fell?"
"I think she might be an undercover man" Panics Ron "She's trying to rattle us"
"Why not come into our tent for a cup and let us fix you up"
"She's trying to abduct Jacky man!" Squeals Rob.
"Calm- the fuck- down Rob, she's just a bit social inept"
Next thing I see is Jacky being escorted into the grey tent beneath the huge hairy bingo wings of Ms Tellytubby, her overly loud nattering disappearing into the distance.
"Anyone fancy some snacks?" I say before Ron starts to pursue
"Yeah, go on then"
I walk to the 'Burger Shack'. A long, patterned rug, swirling with colours, is suspended by long metal rods above a secretaries desk that looks like it was found in a junk yard. Dozens of cookers, throthing and steaming, are lined up behind it. The place didn't look stable but the only other food on option was our beef jerky in the glove box. I sit down on one of the mismatched tables outside the shack and pick up the menu.
Spaghetti- 6.00$
Pizza slice- 3.00$
Egg on toast- 7.00$
Curly fries- 2.00$
I have no idea whether I should wait to be served or not. I suspect they will come out and take my order. While looking around I realize something; every table has a different children toy placed in the center, mine's a train. I give up waiting and shift to the bar area under the rug. It feels colder sitting here, despite the thick sweat I can feel coming off of the large man hunched over next to me, grazing on a large plate of greasy fries. Two women, dressed in fur coats and gleaming white sneaker rush around behind the desk, holding frying pans and blenders that vibrate in their hands.
"Excuse me"
No answer, they just carry on pacing up and down the shack, grabbing mugs and moving pans off of hobs.
"Erm excuse me" I repeat
"Oh sorry dear" Says one of the women while spinning around. Her voice was slightly unhinged, as if something was pinching her while she spoke.
"Yeah, hi, I was just wondering if I could get a burger?"
"Oh we don't do burgers sorry"
I stare in dismay.
"If you'd like to check the menu" She whips out a laminated sheet from beneath her fur coat "Everything you can get is on there"
"Well alright then, I'll get the chips ple-" Before I can finish she snatches the menu from my clutches, sprints behind the cooker and squats. She emerges with a plate heaped with chips, making vibrating spaceship noises while mimicking the movements of a plane with her hands.
"Vvvvvvrrrrrr, here it comes!"
"T-thank you very much"
"No problem dear, need anything, just give we a shout"
"Well actually, yeah, could I get some ketchup?"
She doesn't reply, just nods to the large mountain like man sitting next to me.
His shoulders are so large they protrude around his face. A Greasy ACDC t-shirt is forced over his large mammoth body with stains running down the back. How do you manage to get stains back there? I shift my position so i'm almost leaning off the desk so I can see his face. A giant bushy beard leaks over his collar, streaks of unhealthy white hairs fizz and curl around its erratic structure. His mouth is no where to be seen, only the movements of his chewing is evidence that he actually has one. Usually you would be able to trace the starting point of someones beard hairs, not this one, there where strands of hair coming from all directions, forming a giant fuzz ball with no start or end.
"You know where I can get some ketchup mate?"
He stops chewing and looks me straight in the eyes. Ripples and folds sag around his squinting peepers. Warts and puss filled boils stick out from the ripply skin, some yellow, others stark white beneath a film of peach coloured flesh. His skin seems to be dried and flakey, apart from his nose, which was as smooth as a waxed car. It was as if his whole body had aged apart from it. I realize I am staring.
"I'm.... I'm looking for some ketchup" I stutter.
He reaches into his kakis and pulls out a bright pink pencil case, complete with hello kitty face and a speech mark 'I love you!'. Unzipping it I see it is heaped with ketchup sachets. He keeps eye contact and tilts the pencil case towards me, beckoning me to take some. I grab one and quickly walk back to the car .
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