That time I got married at Burning Man

In a matter of hours, he would be my husband. Late that morning, on the way back from the bank of porta-potties at 8:30 & Dandelion, I looked up to see a black ring of smoke, rising slowly above the dusty horizon. I got off of my bike, dismounted with the clunk of my silver combat boots against the hard-packed playa, and leaned it against pink, fur-covered PVC pipe.

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