It is actual, I am here, I have crawled my way backstage at the Harmony Festival. My Ether counterparts are here somewhere, including the elusive Inflata-Bill, and it feels covert and not just a little High Tech and Mission Impossible to be posting, considering I haven't a clue about what the people who hired me to do this look like.
On a complete aside, I have a confession to make. I am a corn-fed midwesterner, born and bred, and have only been in California less than a year. We of the midwestalways envisioned the West Coast to be Ocean Pacific surfwear, bleach blond groovy-ness, and cops wearing Ponch-style sunglasses and beige uniforms.
Imagine my surprise to find out it was all true, exactly to form- even the CHP- CHiPs really, still wear the type of motorcycle helmets redolent of The Great Gazoo on old Flintstone episodes. It's all a little surreal, the bonafide hippies, the colorful tye dye prints, and the big furry animal hats being sold by the vendors. Walking backstage, I came across- I kid you not- Wavy Gravy, the real deal, a person who sticks out most in my mind as a Ben and Jerry flavor. He is carrying a stuffed platypus on a stick. Again, I kid you not, but you dear reader, are probably acclimated to this. I am not, and it is thrilling.
So, I move now to a film presentation on another legendary West Coast staple, one that ranks among the foremost in the panacea of West Coast legend that circulates in the Great White midwest- the Burning Man Festival. What an education I am getting.
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