When I attended my first The Love Burn (and likely last, as it was not my favorite burn — at all) I wasn’t camping with The Sky Bar, but KJ Donoghue — the visioner, builder and maker-of things-happening dude behind the five-story scaffold structure with an open bar on top — had told me The Sky Bar was short on volunteers. Believing in his vision and wanting to help, I signed up for a shift and listed my times available as “any.”
Turns out the slot they needed filled was Sunday, from 12 midnight to 3 a.m.
OK. On it. I’d said I was available for “any” shift, and I meant it.
Now, I had yet to visit the new and improved Sky Bar, having only seen it in its nascent days at Burning Man and the IAMU camp, but I knew KJ and crew had been working-working-working on it, making it better year after year.
I had heard the pride in KJ’s voice when he spoke about how far the bar had come since its early days, how beautiful it was, and how much people seemed to enjoy coming by and hanging out.
I was happy to help out and do a shift, even if it was from midnight to 3 a.m. on the last night of the event, and even though all attendees needed to roll up our individual and group camps by noon the next day. (I tend to favor the unpopular volunteer shifts at burns and festivals, because, well, someone has to do them, and I’d rather do one unpopular shift than two popular ones.)
Sunday night, a bit before midnight, I headed over to The Sky Bar to get oriented for my shift. There wasn’t much to know: only serve alcohol drinks to people with 21-and-older wrist bands, here’s the ice, here’s our supplies, here’s a rag to wipe the bar down. Pretty basic.
In my first half hour or so as a — and The — bartender, only a few people came by. I wasn’t too surprised by this. There are, at any burn, fewer people around on Sunday nights, as many have left earlier in the day, and many larger camps have packed down a lot of their structures by then. Plus, there’s that Sunday night temple burn earlier in the evening, and people just tend to be a bit more chill on Sunday night. Plus, we’re talking about the midnight-and-after part of “Sunday night.” So, yeah, not a lot of traffic.
There was also very little alcohol inventory left, seeing as it was, after all, Sunday at midnight, and the event had been going strong since Thursday; but I could manage that and figure out how to make some interesting drinks.
open for business
So, there I was. Standing behind the bar. A metal tube emitting flames all around the bar. Five stories up. Overlooking the ocean. (Well, I had a bit of a view). Waiting for “customers,” visitors and late-night adventurers to come by.
[Aside: I need to put the word “customers” in quotes here, as the Burning Man culture is one of gifting-sharing-offering experiences, art, food and drink; and no one is allowed to sell anything or barter. We come prepared to gift!]
A few more people came by — and stayed, and some more, and then others below heard the laughter above, and they joined us, too. Especially as 12 midnight became 1 a.m., and 1 a.m. became 2 a.m., and 2 moved toward 3, it turned out there wasn’t much else going on anywhere else, and The Sky Bar was one of the few happenin’ spots.
And here I was, in the last hours of the revelry, serving the last remnants of whatever drinks I could concoct from whatever alcohol, mixers and ice were left, hosting the one — and likely only — warm (it’d be a stretch to call it “hot”) party in town.
I had a blast.
It was undoubtedly the most fun I’d had at the entire event, and I told KJ afterward. I thanked him for asking for help, as I wouldn’t have even thought to volunteer otherwise. And I told him how epic and amazing his vision and creation were, and what a beacon The Sky Bar was for those needing a place to land and find others on that quiet-ish Sunday night. Truly special.
I share this story now, having learned last night the KJ has passed. Young, bright, curious, caring. (Dude went to Ukraine TWICE after Russia invaded the country and went to help rebuild homes and other structures.) He touched so many people’s lives. Gentle, helpful, creative, capable. Doing, designing, building, teaching. The impact this one person has had on the regional burner community (and I’m sure much and many more) is not small.
His body may be gone, but his ripple lives on.
***
Thanks to Jeremy Opio for creating this graphic tribute to KJ.
Fab photo of KJ by Marvin Roxas.
Sky Bar time-lapse, set-up video.
