In 2010, I met a girl named Coco at Burning Man. Coco had flown from Paris to Black Rock City, and then sauntered into our camp. I was sitting on a mattress when she arrived.
“Hi, I’m Coco,” she said. Noticing the mattress, she continued, “Is this a real mattress?”
People talk about a lot of odd things at Burning Man (i.e., art, camping, music, and sex) but as far back as I can remember no girl ever started a conversation with me by asking about my mattress. Yet, it was definitely happening now.