Every year in the weeks before Burning Man, people constantly call the office and stop us on the street and interrupt us at lunch and ask, “Can I bring my dog to Burning Man?”
You’re crazy, we say. Leave us alone.
But they persist, telling us all the reasons their dog wants to go to the desert for a week. Here’s a handy FAQ to determine if you should bring your dog to Burning Man. It should cover everything.
Can I bring my dog to Burning Man?
No.
But he wants to call himself a Burner.
No.
But he wants to experience a utopia of self-expression and overthrow capitalism for the week.
No.
But he wants to wear ski goggles and wander around the desert.
No.
But he wants to wear leggings and dance at 3 a.m.
No.
But he wants to lick strangers.
No.
But he wants to wiggle on his back before the Angel of the Apocalypse Feathers.
No.
But he wants to huddle under a tarp during a sandstorm.
No.
But he wants to ask someone for water and Luna bars.
No.
But he wants to nap in the MerKHANa Uncertainty Reduction Salon.
No.
But he wants to drive an art car in the Deep Playa.
No.
But he wants to wander off and find God in the blazing heat and then have some trouble finding his way back.
No.
But he wants to do something creative, like pretend he’s a tree all day or talk to people using his foot.
No.
But he wants to express himself.
No.
But he wants to wear a scarf.
No.
But he wants to fetch shooting fireballs.
No.
But he wants to catch flaming devil discs.
No.
But he wants to run naked through people’s tents.
No.
But he wants to see tech billionaires in jorts.
Is your dog a reporter?
No.
Then no.
But he wants to bark in the Temple of Grace.
No.
But he wants to reach inside himself to “figure out that part of you that can be shared with others around you,” according to the literature.
No.
But he wants to meet a soulmate who’s great at hitchhiking and juggling fire sticks and finding places to crash in Denver.
No.
But he wants to forget he works in a cubicle all day.
No — wait, are you talking about yourself now?
No. Maybe.
You may go to Burning Man.
But he wants to take advantage of the Monday Foot Washing Service at 2 p.m.
No.
But he wants to meditate under the Tree of (Im)Permanence and remember his sex drive.
No.
But he wants to ride the Wheels of Zoroaster at dawn.
No.
But he wants to mingle in the 7 Sins Lounge camp.
No — and he has no business being there.
But all his friends are going.
They are not. Who are his friends?
Some people on Facebook. The mailman.
No.
But he wants to get hugged by a greeter and roll in the dust.
No.
But he wants to ride a bike with neon lights into the infinite night.
No.
But he wants to howl with a woman from Iceland.
No.
But he wants to hang out with Mark Zuckerberg and Steve Ballmer and see their stomachs.
No.
But he wants someone to give him a sno-cone.
No.
But he wants to smell people who haven’t showered.
Ew.
But he wants to smell butts.
Ew!
But he really wants to overthrow capitalism.
We covered that already. No.
But he wants to watch a giant man burn.
I’m not surprised, but again: No.
If you still want to bring your dog to Burning Man, consult the “Pet Unfriendly Playa” page on the Burning Man official site, which says, basically, no.
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