douglas

Douglas came over to meet me at my fire. He said it was a lovely fire and he just had to come see it a little closer. I asked him his name. I told him mine. I asked him about his day. He told me he had been in a zoom call for five hours. I asked him what it was about.

“Have you ever heard of the burning man project? He queried.

“Oh yeah!” I reply enthusiastically and then asked what it had been about.

We talked about what he did and burning man for awhile. He told me about different wild things that had happened and seemed notable to him about burning man since the mid nineties when he had started going. It was something for sure. The most notable that he mentioned was a trebuchet that launched upright pianos that were set ablaze, just because they could. A lull in the conversation after I had asked him if I could grab him a beer and he told me he was already drinking a gin and hydroxychloroquine cocktail. This was after a rant about covid protocol’s at burning man and plans by powers that be to kill off a large part of the population.

“Do you like snakes?” I was just straight up taken aback by the question.

“I mean, I think they are cool.” I say, since nothing better comes to mind.

“I’m gonna go check on my dinner and show you Tiffany.”

Douglas came back with his rattle snake wrapped around his left hand a few minutes later.

“Do you want to pet her?”

“Yeah” (me having never done something like this and wondering what it would be like to pet a venomous snake far outside of cell reception while talking with a stranger.)

However, my gut seemed to tell me it was okay and I could go ahead and stroke the back of the snake. It was smooth and soft.

Douglas knows a lot about snakes and I learn a lot in a short period of time. He feels like they are largely misunderstood. He tells me that rattlesnakes are usually fine with being left alone and don’t really care for company usually. He’s had Tiffany for a couple years now and I am just fascinated by the decision to live in close proximity to something that could kill you at any moment.

“How often do you come out here?”

“About 20 times a year” Douglas replied.

“No water or cell service, but it’s free” he shrugs.

“That can be kind of nice though,” I comment.

He then begins to tell me about his radiation meter and about blue tooth headsets and how much radiation he is avoiding by being out here. We talk more about burning man. I didn’t know that kids went to burning man. I ask him if he has any kids. He said no and explained about trying to find a partner in the bay area and makes a sweeping statement about feminism and it sounds to me like there is a lot of pain and frustration that he is gliding over in his vague comments. I’m curious to hear more, but that seems to be about all the information there is to share at the moment on that topic.

Douglas tells me that he is going to go check on his food and I intuitively know that we are done conversing for the night. We part ways.

I think about how I would have never interacted with him if he hadn’t come over and said hello. Life is weird.