Someone recently asked about drug schedules at Burning Man, and while most people are afraid to talk openly and in public about this very serious subject I, Dr. Yes, am not afraid to share someone who isn't me's experience with you.
I wanted to get a real expert's opinion here, and so I set up an interview with renowned Burner and shitposter Elon Musk. He describes how he likes to get messed up below, but be warned, dear reader, he is not a man of insignificant appetites...
"I like to start with the basics. [David] Sacks will typically break out a massive bag of coke on whichever jet we're flying into Burning Man on. We usually try to include the flight attendants and pilots, because it's really not fun to be the only ones getting lit up and Sacks can't keep up with me anyway.
Then as soon as I get to camp I start downing sizzurp non-stop, because hydration is important out there. That usually puts me in a good place to start assembling my camp [Dr. Yes's note: He means his assistant unlocks his RV for him] though I'll typically break out a six foot bong to do a few rips in the middle, just to keep things on an even keel.
Now, once camp is done, I'm going one of two typical routes my first night out there: Crystal or bath salts. It just depends on my mood, you know? Do I want to go pick a fight with Russian gangsters at White Ocean, or am I in more of a "I'll go rave at Camp Walter, which actually turned out to be Kidsville..." kind of mood?
Usually by 2 am or so though, I'm going to need a pick-me-up, so I swing back by camp, smoke a couple packs of cigarettes, beer bong at least one bottle of Mad Dog, and go through a couple boxes of whippits. I'll pop 6 or 7 stems and caps - something I try to do every 12 hours out there, just to keep things properly weird - and now I'm all sorted out and ready to go fuck shit up!
By 8 am I'm typically back in camp again, huffing some butane, or possibly just gasoline if I'm feeling more Mazda than Telsa. Really takes the edge off. A couple hours later I'm ready to start the day, and after a breakfast of shatter-laced cereal in more sizzurp, it's time to for the real fun to begin.
So, first, I thumb in a methadone suppository and then, as tradition dictates, day 2 out there is always a heavy acid day, I'll pop a baker's dozen hits and head out to deep playa, bringing nothing with me other than whichever fanboy has currently got his tongue buried up my ass, knowing that the playa will provide. One time, it provided not-so-friendly BLM law enforcement types after I saw what I swear to god was a giant replica of the Sydney Opera House doing the Danube river doggy style out past the trash fence. I, obviously, went towards it to see about participating. [Dr. Yes's note: Ask first folks! #consent]
Acid being a bit of a commitment, that will usually carry me through to dinner time, at which point my body is often feeling a bit tired, as if I'd just squashed another effort at unionization, so I'll head back to camp and hit myself with a couple ampules of adrenaline. You can really do a proper howl at the sunset with that shit racing through your veins, and it's also great prep for a night of heavy, heavy flakka use. I know people say it can cause permanent psychological damage, but at Burning Man, would you even know? Nah man.
Plus, I'm Elon fucking Musk. I do what I want!
Now, flakka makes you feel like the Falcon Heavy, or maybe the Incredible Hulk - full of fragile male rage and power - and you just want to grrrrrr fight someone! There's only one place on the playa to go when that mood hits you, and that is the Temple, so this is usually the night I dedicate to loudly and angrily appreciating it.
"FUCK YOUR FEELINGS!" I have been known to shout in the Temple (also on investor calls), but I hope people understand that's not me talking - it's the drug cocktail my mind and body are marinating in. The other Temple denizens and I have a good time that night. They're usually all around, clamoring very loudly and angrily at me about how you're not supposed to do this or that or whatever. You'd be surprised at how agitated all the poors get. I bet none of them have ever had the iron balls to call a guy rescuing Thai children from a cave a paedophile! I could buy this this fucking Temple a million times over. I make a mental note to ask Jack to shadowban their Twitter accounts.
Anyway, I'm so off my face by now they usually morph into something much more pleasant and less poor, like clones of Alvin the Chipmunk, the small of Kylie Minogue's back, or a South African emerald mine.
Usually, after my flakka night, I need a little sleep, so I'll do a heroic dose of ketamine, drift into the blissful k-hole, and just sit there (wherever there may be....once it turned out to be the floor of Grover Norquist's RV) for awhile, recovering.
After a couple hours of that, I'm back, baby, and I'm ready to go! A liter of bourbon and a couple grams of molly wake me right up and then it's fucking ON.
I'll run around all day while my body temp slowly creeps up to brain damage range, laughing at all the pussies expressing concern for my condition. I'm rolling hard, bitches! Nobody escapes my hugs.
I'll typically redose six or seven times, consuming maybe 10 grams total throughout the next 18-20 hours, after which I'm usually feeling like things are getting stale, and it's time to up my game a bit lest I get bored.
That's usually when I'll decide it's time for my own version of a Jeffrey, and I'll combine all the synthetic designer drugs I have into one big dose and just do them all at once. Last year I think I mixed together 3-MPM, homomazindol, some variety of cathinone (there are so many, who can keep track), a little Benzo Fury, and of course some tetrahydrofuranylfentanyl, to keep things in equilibrium. Science, bros!!
I usually try to grab a few hours of real sleep after all that wears off, typically using penothal, though sometimes just a lot of opium, to make sure I fall asleep, because it's important to take care of yourself out there.
At this point, I'm rarely aware what day it is, but I usually just figure that as long as there are still people on the playa, I can continue to judiciously self-medicate, so I tend to devote this entire day (whatever day that is) to krokodil. It comes out of Russia, which is how you know it's good, and strong! Like Putin. It's cool to watch your skin get all scaly. Reminds me of that guy in Game of Thrones - he could really swing a sword!
Usually on the way out, I try to keep things low-key. Hop on my flight out of the playa, get a quick BJ from Sacks, snort a little DMT, and if I have a headache, I'll put a morphine drip in and maybe pop a few ambien before I finally let myself really have some fun and open up three or four veins for a good old-fashioned smack session.
And I mean, that's it really. Pretty basic stuff."
I'm Dr. Yes. I run this site, lead a theme camp called Friendgasm, and make Burning Man videos. Just say yes, folks, and help keep Burning Man weird!