The Fire This Time

Friday, September 1st, was the day when Burning Man Y2K threatened to turn into a New Age Altamont. Friday was the third day of high winds -- gusts up to fifty miles per hour -- and "whiteouts," desert dust storms that reduced visibility to about as far as your hand could claw in front of your face. All over the moonlike surface of the playa -- a dried lake bed -- tents ripped apart, domes collapsed, shade structures snapped and sailed away. Caught in the blurring, stinging dust, lines of worried campers grew ever longer at the green Porta-Potties, many of which were flooded with waste. In the center cafe, hundreds danced with desperate fervor to a raucous drum-improv group. Rumors flew about local sheriffs making pot busts and undercover agents checking pupil dilation, and about an insane coprophiliac running wild between storms, taking dumps on people napping out on the playa.

For a few hours, it was unclear whether Burning Man -- which in ten years has exploded from a small-scale gathering of Bay Area artists and fringe dwellers into an annual week-long ritual 26,000 strong -- could survive the elements, as well as the chaotic impact of its own success. Black Rock City, seven square miles of the 400-square-mile Black Rock Desert 100 miles northeast of Reno, Nevada, is now an institution requiring weeks of construction before the community arrives in force. Once a gathering of naked freaks burning shit down and tripping in the desert, Burning Man is now an enormous gathering of dot-com CEOs and cutting-edge artists building a high-tech but incredibly temporary fantasia in the desert -- while getting naked, burning shit down and tripping.

As the storm turned harsh, the members of the Church of Mez kicked back on cushy couches in a canopied shelter, surrounded by bottles of Veuve Cliquot and books by the famed psychedelic chemist Alexander Shulgin. They cuddled each other playfully and ambisexually as they waited for their chef -- formerly of Seattle's Four Seasons -- to serve up yet another gourmet meal. "Tonight we're having prawn risotto and tiramisu," a church member said cheerfully.

The Church of Mez featured a six-story-tall tower of flashing lights, a drum-and-bass DJ platform, a semi converted into a full-service kitchen, and a costume workshop with electroluminescent lights used to create glowing and pulsing effects. The Mezbians had descended on Black Rock desert from Seattle, where many of them are Microsofties, working in the upper echelons of the Church of Bill.

"This is our fourth year here," said namesake Mez, a program manager for Internet Explorer, as he gave a tour of the premises. "We've been refining stuff ever since the beginning." He proudly fanned a twenty-page project guide, featuring scale maps of the campsite and itemized rosters of everything they brought.

A twenty-seven-year-old in a sparkling jacket with long hair and a beard, Mez described his church as "smart, fun, open-minded people interested in personal growth and progressive social change. We want individuals to have more choice in their lives. You see a lot of polyamory here, a lot of public sex. Most people are not violating any rules of their relationships by partaking. I've started a relationship with a very beautiful woman, but it allows me to do what I want."

How did the Church of Mez come about? "Mez is more generous than most in supporting his friends," joked Beverly Sobelman, 36, a development manager in the office division of Microsoft. "One year, on his birthday, his friends asked, 'What do we give a guy who can give himself anything?' We decided to give him his own cult." Earlier that week, Sobelman had married co-worker Stuart Updegrave, 33 -- one of a number of weddings that took place at Burning Man 2000. They unrolled a green lawn on the baked desert, and their chef made a huge ice cream cake to mark the occasion. "I would say that more than half the men at our wedding were wearing dresses," said Sobelman.

"And looking wonderful," Updegrave added, as the couple settled into a warm, polyamorous newlywed embrace.