It’s the night of the burn. I’m wearing my red tutu and a shirt my friend had made with big, luscious, red lips on it. Bottle of champagne in hand, I head out for the playa, solo. I walk around for a while, checking out art cars, dancing a bit, and anticipating the experience to come. Well, little did I know what was to come.
Walking out from the masses, I see the movie car coming my way with the big, lit marquee reading “Rocky Horror.” If you didn’t catch the car last year, it was a 70’s Cadillac, with a large marquee facing out, built on the hood, and a projection screen on the other side. The car would drive around, towing a trailer with staggered theatre seats, so twenty or so people could watch a movie projected on the screen, while touring BRC. All of a sudden, I hear someone from the car yell, “Hey, we like your shirt. Want a ride?” I look down at the red lips and laugh, “Hell yeah!”
I crawl on board, find a seat, and the car starts rolling around on the perimeter of the mayhem that was about to ensue. I start passing out gifts. “Would you like a tactile or material gift?”
“Ummm, tactile.”
“Sharp or moist?”
“Moist.”
I give her a spritz of lavender water. A “sharp” reply gets a roll along the inner arm with a seamstress wheel I carry around.
“What about you? Would you like a material or tactile gift?”
“Well, I guess I’ll have a material one”
“Metal or paper?”
“Metal.” I give this person a coin that I forged with my tag on the back – DV8. A paper response gets a badass art card my friend from L.A. does.
We’re all getting along phenomenally, the drinks are flowing, and then the Man is lit. The car stops, and “Rocky Horror” is turned off, while we watch the burn from the distance. The man comes down in one piece, and we’re all freaking out in general, when the car starts, “Rocky Horror” is turned back on, and our hostess announces we’re going to check out some sights.
Still partying and singing to the movie, we drive way out on the playa to check out “The Tree,” an installation using an old tree, with rice paper lanterns hanging from it and gifts and notes all over. The hostess tells us to check it out and be back in fifteen minutes to head back to town. I walk around amazed at this creation, leave a coin at the base, and go back to the car.
We start moving, and I notice the couple that was sitting next to me isn’t there. “Oh well, I guess they bailed,” I think to myself.
The movie comes back on, but it’s not “Rocky Horror” any more. It looks like a porno, but I realize it’s the couple who was sitting next to me. I look through the back window of the Cadillac, and sure enough they have a live video feed coming from a camera in the back seat. Holy shit, this couple is going to town hard core, and having a blast. The woman is facing the camera, sitting on top of the man, bouncing up and down, rubbing her clit as she grabs the microphone from the driver and starts talking to us, moaning, and screaming. All of us in the back are laughing, getting turned on, and loving it. People on bicycles roll up and follow along side watching the sex show. The spectacle lasts a while, and when they finish, the car stops, they get out and everyone applauds and thanks them.
“Can we have a cigarette?”
We all whip out our smokes. The couple climbs on board and sits down next to me. “Rocky Horror” turns back on, and the car starts rolling back to town.
by Wade Beesley
