See here for the first episode in our story, which continues . . .
After dinner and the giant foodfight, more naked people came out of the woodwork. I had attended a Halloween party at Mr. Garriot's house (not one of the legendary haunted houses he throws every other year, but a small party of about 50 people total, including my group of ten) less than a year before this festival and had been impressed by the number of naked women roaming about in wild and very skimpy costumes. This party was even more naked, if possible. Lots of spanking and spitting fire, more drinking and ingesting of illicit substances, and generally a lovely dusk during which we all digested the animals we had helped eat earlier.
Some fire walkers had been hired, and they had constructed a fire walk about 25 feet long made of hot coals and lava rocks, and every five feet there were cedar logs across the path, burning. They'd spray charcoal starter fluid on the low parts so there would be a uniform tall flame along the path sometimes. And every once in a while, one of them would walk the fire path, carefully stepping over the burning logs.
The people I was with allowed as how they'd be walking that path soon, as we were all likely to do at some point. I figured now was as good a time as any, so I walked on fire immediately after one of the guys there did it. I hadn't really looked at it, and didn't realize the logs were an added obstacle, so when I did it the first time, I almost tripped and landed face-first on the coals. Would have been messy, I bet, but I managed to stay upright, and the only thing that was burned on that run was the hair on my legs.
You may remember that I was wearing a loincloth, and had decided to discard my underwear after seeing what other people were wearing, which in some cases was practically nothing. And while hot, my secret junk didn't get burned on the first trip. It was fun, and some of my friends had done it not long after me, as did other onlookers.
What we didn't know was that the guys working the fire path were hired to make it and then demonstrate the art of fire walking. No one else was supposed to do it. By the time we all stopped, I had done it four times, and maybe a hundred others had done it at least once. On the second trip, I went right after they had hosed some of the path with charcoal starter, and I singed my pubes a little. On the next two trips, one after the other, I burned the soles of my feet a little.
Right after it happened, I knew I had done something to my feet, and jogged down to the lake to soak them for a half hour. As soon as I got to the water, an enormous fireworks show started right over our heads, echoing up and down the Colorado River in a pretty horrifying manner. It was absolutely beautiful, and even though my feet were throbbing, I got off easier than the 30 or so people who ended up in the ER with burns on theirs.
Then it got really weird. More later . . .
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
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