Last year when I told friends and acquaintances I was going to Burning Man, I got a range of reactions. Some people confused the event with music festivals like Bonaro and Coachella: “Oh, wow, what bands have been booked?”

Some people were jealous: “I’ve always wanted to go to Burning Man. I wish I could go with you.” Other people admired me: “You’re so brave. I would love to go but I don’t think I could handle it.”

Others were congratulatory: “That’s great. My cousin/ brother-in-law/ best friend goes every year and always has a blast. You’ll have to tell me all about it. Take lots of pictures!” Those who had been themselves encouraged me: “Oh, you will just love it, I know.”

Others were skeptical or cautionary: “Do you know what you’re getting into? There’s a lot of drugs and people walking around naked.” Some were concerned for my physical safety: “You know you have to bring everything with you, right? You have to camp and bring all your water and food. It’s the desert, you know.”

My hairdresser, who used to live in Reno, the gateway to Burning Man, warned me to be careful: “Don’t stumble into one of those sex tents.” (She was just kidding. I think.) Other people were openly critical: “It just seems like a pointless exercise in hedonism.” One friend asked me in all seriousness, “Do you think Burning Man is a cult?”

After a while, I decided I needed a concise answer to why I wanted to go to Burning Man—although privately I felt my real answer was: Who wouldn’t want to go?

Obviously, Burning Man is not a single experience, nor the same experience for everyone who goes there. For me, first and foremost, I wanted to see all the incredible outdoor art installations, many of them interactive and kinetic. I was intrigued by viewing the world’s largest outdoor art gallery and seeing art that could be seen no where else, some of which would be burned at the end.

I wanted to see and maybe ride on one of the many Mutant Vehicles: decorated, illuminated slow-moving vehicles that ply the desert floor blasting music and giving people rides and providing a moving dance platform. Cool!

Then there was the prospect of non-stop music and dancing: I’d heard that you could dance all night, and I really looked forward to dancing until I could dance no more.

The opportunity to camp in the desert appealed to me: I happen to love deserts. I find them very beautiful and inviting. Camping with a bunch of creative people out in the desert just sounded like fun.

Those of you who’ve known me awhile are probably aware that I have an adventurous side that needs care and feeding. I relish a new adventure that gets me out of my comfort zone. I guess I was overdue for a new adventure, and Burning Man definitely fit the bill. Plus I’m at the age when it’s time to tackle your bucket list, and Burning Man is definitely a bucket-list item.

Then there was the whole idea of Black Rock City, a temporary “city” of 60,000 that rises out of the desert and then disappears a week later, leaving no trace. Burning Man claims to be the world’s largest Leave No Trace event. How cool is that?

I also liked the idea that the participants created the event. The Burning Man organization builds the city’s infrastructure, and the rest is up to the participants. I wouldn’t be observing or attending the event…no, I would help create the experience.

I liked the idea that you had to be totally self-sufficient, and at the same time, people were generous and constantly gifting. The only things that are sold are ice and coffee.

Finally, I just thought it would be fun to ride a decorated bicycle across the desert floor wearing some funky costume and silly hat. Where else am I going to do that?!

The closer it got to August, the more people I found who knew someone who had been, always went, or was going for the first time, just like me. When you live near San Francisco, where Burning Man has its roots, it should be no surprise that Burning Man is woven into the Bay area’s fabric.

My next-door neighbor’s son Kirk is a DJ at a camp called Space Cowboys. His nom de plume is Captain Kirk, naturally. My personal trainer’s two brothers used to go, but not any more because “it’s just not the same.” A young architect I met at a party was trying to get tickets to go with his girlfriend for the first time

I discovered that my friend Laura and her husband had gone several times before they had kids. A friend’s sister- and brother-in-law were going for the first time with a camp from Silicon Valley. They learned to make mead so they could camp with the Bee camp. And so it went….

Most surprising, though, was at my high school reunion in Memphis in July, where Clark, who lives in Houston, told me one of his best friends there “lives for Burning Man.” His friend volunteers as a Ranger…sort of the first level of policing that goes on there.

It seemed like once I hoisted my Burning Man flag, “Burners” popped up everywhere. I wasn’t the only crazy one going.