What We Saw At Burning Man

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Smacky Jack

He came trudging along wearing a battered army rucksack on his back, a tall white haired gentleman appearing to be in his mid 50's. Greg noticed him first, "That man looks like he's been ridden hard and put away wet," he remarked. Greg stood up and said, "Care to join us sir; I've got an ice cold beer here with your name on it." The man stopped and briefly looked us over, "Would you folks be bikers?" "If we aren't," replied Greg, "I don't know what that Harley sticker is doing on the back window of my truck." The man smiled at us with a big toothless grin and laughed. Dropping his pack and taking a seat in one of the empty chairs, he accepted a beer from Greg. "Bikes back in Gerlach at the gas station, lifter took a s**t on me, got a fellow coming up from Reno in a couple of days to pick it up, I wuz gonna stay the whole week, but sometimes plans change," he wheezed. Suddenly thinking this man was probably pretty hungry, I said, I've got some stuff in the fridge if you're hungry?" "That's mighty hospitable of you ma'am thank you." I got up and fixed him a cold meat sandwich chips and some cold baked beans. As he wolfed down the food Greg and I looked at each other with concern, then Greg said, "Sir, if you like you're welcome to camp here, stay inside of the netting, where its cooler, and nobody will see you, I've even got a cot you can sleep on." Smacky looked at Greg and grinned, "It ain't like I don't have a ticket, just don't feel like wandering around looking for the right place for walk-ins."

"That's all right," replied Greg, "you look pretty beat." "That I am son that I am." The man introduced himself as the famous "Smacky Jack," "Been every where, done everything, got me an old "Glide" back at Gerlach, oh yeah, already told ya that, well she's been a good friend, first time she's let me down in many an age." Offered another beer, Smacky took the offered beverage and continued his story. I've never heard anyone weave together stories the way Smacky did, Greg and I have always wondered if the incredible stories we heard were true, they sure sounded plausible. Smackey was a master storyteller, describing his travels all over the country, and the situations he always found him self in. We were also treated to what Greg later called "Smackeyisms." "Wal-Mart…You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Or, "Don't eyeball me boy. I see your mother driving up and down the street lookin at me. I'll be your stepfather by the weekend." "Freedom and justice come out of a box. Sometimes it is a jury box, sometimes it is a ballot box, other times it has to come from a cartridge box."

Greg's favorite was, "Bullets in a firefight are like candy in Kindergarten; bring enough for everyone or you are going to be in trouble." The one he told with the most relish was, "Coyote with 40 people crammed into a minivan gets into a chase with DPS. Paco over estimates his driving abilities and "Whammo!" The Astrovan of immigration becomes a piata of pain hurling broken bodies like so many tasty pieces of cheap candy." Smacky would begin a story, then stop think a moment, then recite a "Smackeyism," I asked him that with all of these close encounters he was always getting into what did he use for protection?" "I keep am inch and a half guardrail nut on a loop of 550 paracord. It's not whiz-bang tactical, but one smack in the grape, and its coloring books for Christmas."

It was getting close to two in the morning, and Jessica had already gone to bed, Smackey was deep in his cups, I asked him if he's ever been here before," "Third time," was the reply, then he went off on a tangent with, "Most of the females you'll find around here smell like hamster cages after the first day, and can braid the hair covering their Brittney by the time they leave. That being said, if you like unshowered loose women with smelly snatches and a bunch of swinging d***s around you then go for it." "If you feel that way," asked Greg, "Why do you come back?" "Sompthin's always happin' out here on the playa, I'm always afeard I'll miss sompthin I've never seen."

By this time we were all two sheets in the wind, Greg brought out a folding cot and set it up for Smackey. The old man used our bathroom in the trailer to do his business wash his face and return to lay out a ratty sleeping bag on the cot, where he promptly fell asleep. In the morning, I fixed him some bacon and eggs along with some strong coffee. After eating, he announced that he couldn't impose on us any longer, and would go and try to find his proper camping spot. "You two have been mighty hospitable, folks like you are rare." Shaking our hands, he added, "God bless you, I'll keep you in my prayers." We never saw Smackey again, and later, when we passed through Gerlach on the way home Greg inquired at the gas station about an old man leaving his Harley there. "Nobody's left any motorcycles around here," replied the owner, "You must have been mistaken." From time to time when I think of it, I'll stop what I'm doing and say a short prayer for Smackey Jack.

Later the three of us trying our best to look like extra's in a Mad Max movie rode over to the thunder dome, it was a large cage modeled after the death match arena in the Mad Max film.

The crowd was loud and boisterous, people were milling around howling and chanting for something that couldn't be seen from ground level. Some half-naked woman was shouting something to the crowd, but there was so much noise and confusion we simply couldn't hear her. This was supposed to be an art project, but Greg and I were convinced people thought it was a real death match. Just like in the movie, there were two bungee cords stretching thirty feet from the pinnacle of the dome connected to two rocking horses. It wasn't Mel Gibson taking on Blaster but two obviously drunk 30 something's throwing their hands into the air and screaming at the pumped up crowd. The men then mounted their respective mounts and were given large foam jousting javelins, at this point a hush fell over the dome.

The bare assed women yammered on about something else then the crowd started chanting, "Two men enter, one man leaves, two men enter, one man leaves." People were hanging like monkeys from the arena bars, then the woman raised her hands and announced, "Dying time is here!" The men were released from where they had been anchored and shot forward towards each other javelins up. One man was hit and barely stayed on his mount as both spun around and became tangled. At this point, the crowd went absolutely berserk screaming and jumping around like lunatics. all the while, both men battled each other pounding and beating at each other with their foam javelins. Fire started erupting out of various portals; all the while, the place was going insane. All we could do was watch, and try and stay out of the way; finally, one man fell off his "horse" with the other man springing off his mount in hysterical excitement. Greg looked at Jessica and I indicating, "Let's get the f**k out of here!" Making our way to the entrance, we quickly made a hasty exit.

Standing outside we discussed what we'd just witnessed, Jessica was extremely upset and required comforting, Greg observed, "Somebody really went to a lot of trouble to put that thing on, and for what…Art?" "You wouldn't think art could take on it's truest form in something like that," I replied, "Imagine that, two men who have never met before beating the crap out of each other with foam javelins." I think it was about this time that Jessica announced, "Uh mom don't look now…" Greg was watching them as well, two young women obviously in love prancing along without a stitch. Both looked rather anemic and certainly couldn't boast the feature men always looked to first, but…Whatever. We stopped into a place called the Black Rock Cantina that was inviting people to come in and mingle with bounty hunters and smugglers. Still another rather strange camp was called the "martial law" camp asking us to help enforce collective justice and re-education.

We then happened past a camp Jessica and I actually returned to a couple days later was the Barbie day spa. While Greg was off at a nearby camp, Jess and I took advantage of foot washing as well as full body massages. We also spent some time there talking to a couple women who volunteered their time to come here and do this. Another place we visited more than once was the 7 Sirens Cove, where we danced and lounged on large comfortable couches. We pretty much spent the rest of the day here chatting with all sorts of people, our "Thunderdome costumes and headgear caused considerable comment among several of the visitors.

Most of the camps we passed centered on themes none of us found all that interesting, the ones we gravitated to involved music. Live funk jams were what we were looking for. At a couple of the really good ones, you literally got swept away by the music. Even Greg who wasn't much of a dancer got caught up in all of the excitement. Jess really came alive at these camps and she was noticed. Young men were always coming up and trying to dance with her. As I watched her really "shaken it out" the Abba song "Dancing Queen" kept coming to mind. We soon discovered the best times to spend at these camps was after the sun had gone down. For one, it wasn't so blasted hot, and another, the night just seemed to bring out the real dancers.

Later, back at camp, Greg had a volunteer commitment the next day, so had gone to bed early, Jess and I sat outside watching the nighttime activities of Black Rock city, and thinking of Smackey Jack. "Thanks mom," said Jessica out of the blue, "For what dear," I replied. "For being cool with all this," she replied. "So I'm not being an old "stuffed shirt?" Jessica giggled, "Your totally awesome mom, I'm so happy we came and you didn't make me stay ant home, you know, after…"

"Uh oh," I thought, "Time to put on my "Mommy" cap." I thought. "Just because you're here doesn't mean your off the hook, we still have all that trust to rebuild, but if you're paying attention, there are plenty of opportunities right here that will allow you to work on that little project." Jess then got up, squatted down next to me, and gave me a hug. "I know, still, you're one awesome mom, I love you!" "I love you too Jess," I replied.

As I lay next to Greg, I wondered if we had done the right thing bringing Jessica to a place like this.