BURNING MAN, Black Rock City, Nevada The Girl Scouts of America chucked me out 23 years ago. In addition to general atheism and brattiness, I'd protested our Thanksgiving charity project: pushing cloves into oranges to create aromatic spice balls for the homeless.
To be fair, I had statistical data to back my potty-mouthed claim of "bull$hit": 100% of the troop found the endeavor pointless and offensive, including the leader's daughter. Not that this stopped her from squealing, the two-faced little prig...
So with great delight, I handstitched barrel-freed monkeys and rebellious patches (Free Ballard!) onto my big-girl sash. Most of the Roaraxers planned to dress as dirty scouts, a la the "American Dream" theme, and make mischief of one kind and another.
Then the festival's worst dust storm ever hit.