Image via Petit Reveur.
For my SF Gate/Chronicle column this week, Burning Man and safer sex: Free your mind, but watch out for crabs the comments are off the scale and my inbox is flooded. The good news: the email is all praise! Email comments are along the lines of, “LOL! Hysterical writing style ….verbiage is outstanding and entertaining!!!” You’ll apparently either love my article or hate it… here’s a snip; there’s more in the piece about safer sex tips in the land of dust and lust:
While attendees of the yearly arts festival known as Burning Man come from all over the nation and the world, the impact of the costly desert bacchanalia is felt pretty strongly around San Francisco. Many rejoice at the sudden lack of rich hippies and art cars dripping Barbie heads and Legos onto the roads when fog breaks down cheap art-store epoxy, and the ease with which one can get brunch in the Mission. There are virtually no white dudes with dreadlocks for seven square miles. San Francisco smug levels ratchet back to tolerable in the absence of arty hipster trust fund brats and Web 2.0 lets-resurrect-Pets.com-as-a-vlog leeches. Super annoying guys don’t hit on me in bars assuming I know what the hell they’re talking about when they use terms like “the burn,” “the man” and “off the grid.”
And at house parties, there are no chicks that become uncontrollably drunk and then attempt to show you how they can “fire dance,” accidentally setting fire to the host’s potted plant/small dog/infant.
(…) Here at home among clinic workers and sex hotline operators, our thoughts are about the souvenirs that keep on giving long after the man has burned, you’ve thrown away a car full of garbage at a “leave no trace” event, and the ozone has thinned a bit more. Maybe it’s a coincidence that local health workers have complained to me that they think there’s a noticeable increase in STD testing around the Bay Area after Labor Day weekend, presumably from those who found bliss and new friends for life (of the genital virus variety) while spreading the, um, love and art at Black Rock City. According to one local clinic worker who requested anonymity for this piece, “What we usually see is both a weekly trend and a seasonal trend in STD and pregnancy testing. For example, Mondays are always the day we get lots of requests for Plan B. We see a huge rise in pregnancy and STD testing (and, more telling than the number of tests, the number of positive results) in the summer and around the holidays.” Holidays like Christmas — or Labor Day? To wit: The Man might be burning, but so is your ass. It’s no wonder the attendees are called “burners.”
Think about it. Before you go, have mock-Burning Man sex, just for fun. Lube up a condom with playa dust or the kitty litter of your choosing. Have anonymous sex with people who haven’t showered or used a functional bathroom in a week; This is easily accomplished around Stanyan and Haight. Have a theme party featuring creative enlightenment peppered with drug busts, heatstroke and, um, community. Dolores Park is a good location for the last three on that list.
I have a lot of friends who go to Burning Man. But before you end up at Herpes Camp holding a cardboard sign that reads “will trade ice for antibiotics and Famvir,” pack your safer-sex gear, boundaries and some sexual common sense along with that fabulous outfit you’re about to ruin with dust and sweat.
Link.
