Welcome to Decompression Front Page, Black Top Gazette, 2003 Every first Tuesday of September, I see you... hunkered down in your cube farm, wearing a thousand-mile stare, jaw hanging down to your keyboard, tongue lolling on the keys. You're fried, you're exhausted, you're emotionally and physically wrecked, and you most likely still have playa dust caked in places only your doctor will ever see. You wander aimlessly out into the daylight for lunch, clothes feeling strange on your skin, and you attempt in vain to make eye contact with the joyless strangers on the street. Everybody looks boring. You realize with a tired, self-satisfied grin that they have no concept just how fucking weird you really are. It's Burning Man Decompression time. Why it's called "decompression" is still a mystery to me. I mean, did I miss something? Were we "compressed"? If anything, we were enlightened and enchanted. But I guess it's too depressing to call it "delightenment" or "disenchantment". So decompression is as good a term as any for the daunting effort of re-assimilating ourselves back into what we are now compelled to call the "default world". Why are there are decompression parties after Burning Man? I can think of two reasons. First off, they extend us a helping hand as we descend from the lofty emotional heights of the burn, back to the relative drudgery of daily life. Second, they help to sustain the flame of the Burning Man spirit ... to give us a little reminder that it's still there inside all of us. And if somebody were to force me to pick a third, I'd have to say ... well ... it's a great excuse to throw another kick-ass party with thousands of our closest friends. The decompression process can be really tough for people. Especially for those who are deeply into the experience, particularly sensitive, or prone to emotional fragility, the shift from our utopia back into the harsh reality of the default world can be downright brutal. I have heard numerous stories over the years - some tragic - of people taking it very very hard. So, in the truest spirit of the Burning Man community, please take care of your friends. Watch out for them, and give them the support they need. Bask in the San Francisco Decompression, folks. Go out there and take a playa dust shower at Playa Dust Camp, dance your feet off at the Space Cowboy's Unimog, and get a good spanking from Ouchie the Clown. You deserve it. Trust me on this. Most importantly, connect with your fellow burners again and rekindle the spirit. And when you do, enjoy that little tingle in your stomach. Bottle that up and take it with you. A word of caution - if you're prone to consuming copious amounts of your favorite mind-altering substance, please make sure you have a reasonable way home after the party. As much as we'd like it to be, this ain't the playa, and this time you can't just aim yourself towards your tent before giving up and passing out in somebody's chill dome. We want you to get home safely. Your real home, that is. See you on the playa. ## Copyright Will Chase, 2002-2005 |