2003-03-26 - 12:38 a.m.
I waffled about adding my fourth pointless entry in a day, but I just couldn't resist. There's not that much to say, per usual, but I will spew forth words until I decide perhaps it's time to go to bed.
I found out yesterday that there's going to be a desert party this Friday night. This knowledge does me no good, as I'm about 3,000 miles away from the desert where it will occur. Just to explain, desert parties are smaller versions of a "rave" in the desert. I've never been fond of that word nor most of the culture that surrounds it, but I became addicted to desert parties. For one, they are thrown by my friends and generally all my best friends would attend. They are small, thus limiting the annoying raver faction. Most importantly, though, the whole experience is amazing. For a long time, I've wanted to try to capture in words what it is like, and I will try here (without much hope that I'll succeed any better than previous attempts.)
They have been held on Friday nights in recent memory. Directions are obtained from a friend's website and disbursed to the worthy. At least one trip to the grocery store is necessary for beer, booze for the morning, lots of water, plenty of cigarettes and fun snacks in the desert. Typically I take bread, brie, and apples, but others get crazy and bring bacon and eggs to cook over a campfire. I rarely eat much anyway, and it's more sustenance for the trek home. At this point, entertainment can be procured, from bubbles and slinkies to water guns for warmer weather. One then collects appropriate clothes for the middle of the desert night, the warming moments of dawn, and the full strength of the sun. If sunglasses are forgotten, you're in for a rough morning.
At around midnight, a car is filled with friends, and the adventure begins. Driving music is a requirement. I must have fun music for the drive out, some sort of electronica for the final approach, and sing-along music for the drive home, if I'm driving. The drive is generally 2 1/2 to 3 hours into the Mojave desert. A few gas station stops are expected, with other random purchases made. The final half hour is on dirt roads into part of the public use lands that sprawl across California. We share this terrain with ATV-ers, Boy Scouts, and gun enthusiasts. It makes for a crazy mix out there, but the area is vast enough that you don't usually come into contact with them until daylight, if then.
Once the site is located (and this can be tricky on unlit dirt roads in the desert), the car is unloaded and a camping area is set up. This is where the precious beer is kept, as well as water and critical layers. In the darkness, my friends set up the turntables and speakers, then start spinning. And we start dancing. Some slink off for naps before dawn, and others ingest drugs and begin trips. I usually just drink beer and play the fun game of trying to figure out who's there. Minimal light and winter clothes make this challenging.
Slowly, the sky begins to lighten. Mountains that were invisible attain definition. The wind picks up. DJs change, and the sunrise set begins, usually pretty mellow and beautiful songs. People also scatter to the highest points to greet the sun. I rarely climb, as I distrust my footing after drinking. I can usually be found on the dance floor with a handful of others. As the sun reaches across the desert, people get a little crazier and the music gets faster.
This is also the time when morning drinks are brought out. Some insist on mimosas. Others shoot tequila. For a long time, greyhounds were my drink of choice. I don't think I could drink vodka and grapefruit juice without remembering sunrise at the desert. One friend pulls out a jug of Carlo Rossi red wine and forces friends to take slugs of it. I have been known to ask, "Is it Carlo time yet?" This is when things reach an almost fevered pitch. The music is wonderful, and once the sun is fully up, people return from their wanderings back to the music. People who you hadn't seen all night suddenly appear. There is much sharing of drinks and general merriment.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. By midafternoon, those that provided the sound equipment and generator decide it's time to leave. The hearty few that remain pack up their stuff and help clean up the site. The drive out of the desert is amazing, because all those indistinct forms you passed in the darkness are starkly clear in the desert sunlight.
I'm not sure when I will make it back to California for another desert party. I hope it remains just as I've described it here.
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