Mission Control

One day at Burning Man, our camp pulled its portable bar to the roadside and served drinks to whoever passed by. This one guy came by and asked, "Would you like to make a donation to the mission?" My campmate looked at him as if he was crazy. "Do you have a mission to donate? Who here has a mission?" he yelled. Most people lingering at the bar started walking away or engaging in conversation to avoid this potentially religious situation. I grew curious. He's not seriously talking about mission in the religous sense, is he?

"What kind of mission?" I asked. "A life mission," the guy answered. "I don't have a mission in life," I told him. He said, "well, would you like a mission? You are all welcome to a mission, if you'd like one." People still seemed quiet and standoffish. I told him that I would take a mission. He came over to me and opened up his fanny pack, which was filled with lots of little folded papers. "In order to take a mission, you have to leave a mission. So write one down on any piece of moop you have and drop it in my bag." Suddenly, I got it.

I took a piece of paper and wrote, "Find either a honey bun or some Fritos and bring them to Lucky Bastard in Wheeeville." I chose this mission because my friend Lucky, who wasn't supposed to come to Burning Man this year made a very last minute decision to make the trip. Because he didn't have time to tell anyone that he was going, his mom didn't mail him his annual care package, which is a giant box of Fritos and honey buns. It's all I've ever seen him eat. So this year, he seemed like he wasn't quite himeself.

I dropped my mission into the bag and pulled out a piece of paper. It read, "Break the mirror." I asked the guy what happens when I complete a mission. "Simple. Write the time you completed the mission on the piece of paper and then bring it to me. I'm Mission Control. At that time, you can take another mission for yourself and some other missions to distribute to others." I like this.

Easy. I ran into my tent and grabbed our chincy hand mirror. I brought it over by the trash, broke it and threw it all away except for a tiny shard of glass. I returned to the bar with a shard of glass and asked what time it was. Writing the time down on my scrap, I put the mission and the glass into a baggie and inserted them into his fanny pack o' missions. I took a new one for me and another mission for someone else. The mission I chose said this:

This was my second mission in life. I had the tiny bottles of liquor all ready, and my plan was to accomplish this mission on one of the mornings that I woke up really early. But as the week wore on, I started to sleep in and missed my chance to use the undetectable plan. When I got home from Burning Man, I opened the bag of missions that I had collected from people hanging out in our lounge who wanted to participate. The first one I pulled out has replaced the former incomplete mission, because not only is this one fun, but it can be completed year round, off playa.

Okay, it's kind of vague, but vague can be fun if you're feeling very creative. I think I will abuse that (starting now) by sending them random greeting cards every month or so to this so-called "random Burner" until next year at Burning Man, leaving more clues to my identity as time passes. Or maybe the author of this card will be so clever as to Google this project and discover me on their own??

The next card I pulled out was this one. Has anyone ever called Jesus a poser before?

The person who created this mission either hates the Lord or they were referring to their Latino campmate named Jesus. I like how they remembered where they were in the last second and offered the playa dust alternative. Where are the rocks in Black Rock City?!?!

Hmm, a borrowing mission (ironically, this one's written on one of my index cards, taken, uh, borrowed from the other interactive project we had). Borrowing can be very fulfilling sometimes.



Here's an optomistic mission created by someone hopeful. I think it might have been a little cheesy (given this year's theme) to hear "there is hope!" shouted out on the playa, but this would work fabulously in the 'normal' world, where the daily news is grim and the future looks bleak.



Here's a mission that proves how beautifully inverted a world Burning Man is, because it's too damn easy! Now, again, back in the 'normal' world, this would certainly make for an interesting challenge. Many people, including me, picked this mission and immediately disqualified it, returning it back to the bag.


Hmm, an agressive mission. Who's writing these things? I guess it wasn't just me that got cranky from the heat.



Jesus makes another appearance! Here he is (another stolen index card!) commanding you to get freaky on a ranger. Oh Jesus, you're a naughty boy.


If you choose this card, you are presented with the unique opportunity to do something inappropriate and perverted and then blame it on Jesus.

"Sorry, Black Rock Ranger, but Jesus told me to do it. He told me it's my life's mission. Look right here, I have the card to prove it."

Dammit, why didn't I pick that one?? I only know two Rangers personally, but I think if I chose this mission, I'd have to execute it on a total stranger and then use the line above. Come to think of it, I should be blaming Jesus for a lot of the other wrong shit I do. I mean, who are you to tell me that Jesus doesn't speak directly to me?


"Cop a feel, my lamb."

The rest of the missions were taken from the bag by burners who wanted to participate. I wonder if they ever completed their missions? I suppose they never expire. Maybe they'll follow my lead and try to complete a mission off the playa. Feel free to do the same. Take these or make up your own!