The "Last Call" bar on Tuesday... after all the burny things had burned, after all the street signs had been stolen, during the dust storm which tested Burner perseverance and brought the straggling, leftover Burners together in intimate bonding experiences...
There was a bar, set in front of a parachute-covered dome camp, who's name was unknown, located at about 5:08-and-something (A? B? I dunno...), which seemingly ran as a random co-op and who's patron-operators called out "LAST CALL!!!" as they served sun-heated cheap tequila and gin in scavenged, mud-caked vessels & containers of any and every possible sort.
I met God (or is it "Gawd"... anyways, he's from L.A. it seems), Jesus, Chris, a lovely woman from Davis (forgive me for not retaining her name after a substantial amount of alcohol and a long discussion about a Davis after-party), and two Aussies whom I took home with me (by their own will, believe it or not) and with whom I formed an amazing bond and probably lifetime friendships.
Now, to ME, THAT'S what Burning Man is all about.
Also, The Liquid Latex Lounge (MY bias), Camp Brigit (my neighbors with the gracious hospitality, sheltering RV, and damn-f*cking-fun Nitrous Oxide tank during the dust storm).
There's more, I'm sure, but I guess it's not necessary to try to remember everything all at once. Nor may it be possible to remember everything at all, if it comes right down to it.
Cheers to you, you're damn fine folks!