Are you familiar with the concept of unconscious bias? It is when people make judgments or decisions based on prior experience, their own personal deep-seated thought patterns, assumptions or interpretations, and at times they are not aware that they are doing it. The Oxford Learner’s Dictionary defines it as an unfair belief about a group of people that you are not aware of and that affects your behavior and decisions.

I’ve been on the receiving end of it for nearly nineteen years. And I can pinpoint my move from DC to Dallas – which was the result of a corporate relocation that I chose to make and am glad I did – as to when it began. I don’t ever recall being asked if I’ve always lived in New York or DC in the decades I lived there. But if it comes up in a discussion (maybe with a work colleague, or vendor, or client or prospect) that I am based in Dallas, immediately the other person assumes I have never been anywhere else. Why? Where did the notion of a hermetically sealed Lone Star State come from? Texas has undergone a considerable transformation in recent decades, and its urban centers may well be among the most diverse environments in the country. The state has experienced countless corporate relocations over the years, with companies from all over the US bringing a lot of workers with them. Most of my neighbors are newish Texas residents because of corporate relocation. We had a block party a few years ago, and learned there were only 3 families out of 20 on this street who were native Texans. People moved here from Illinois, California, Maryland, Arizona, Georgia, Rhode Island, and even other countries. So why do people outside of Texas not realize this? You’d think that the tons of cities in Texas named after other places (Fredericksburg, Roanoke, Bedford, Arlington, Palestine, Rome, and Dublin, to name a few) might provide a clue to the large number of transplants here.

I’ve tried to find answers online, but unfortunately there are no clear answers. Anyone who has heard me speak would quickly find an indication of a life lived to the north or east. I’ve made an icebreaker US football analogy about working my way through the NFC East. My digital footprint is sprinkled with some hints that although I live in Texas now, I’m not from here. Since you’re reading this blog post, scroll up to the photo at the top of the page. You’ll see that same bridge on my LinkedIn profile. Recognize it? If you think it is somewhere in Texas, guess again. It is the bridge portion of the Robert Moses Causeway on Long Island. Robert Moses was an urban planner who is regarded as one of the most powerful and influential individuals in the history of New York, despite never having held an elected office. The Robert Moses Causeway (or as the locals affectionately call it, the Bobby Mo) connects West Islip to the barrier beach islands. My high school was a few yards from the bridge, and my family would sail toward it on frequent sailing excursions. It serves as a nice reminder of my Long Island roots.

Do you know where the title of this blog post comes from? Here’s a hint. It is the last line spoken on the first side of an album that was released 50 years ago this year. And I’ve visited the site of the album cover.

The annual Burning Man festival is in the news this week, more as a debacle than a celebration. Although I’ve never been, I’ve always associated Burning Man with concert festivals such as Lollapalooza, Warped, and the veritable but not forgotten HFStival. Turns out it was something else again.

The weeklong event—known for its art, communal activities and atmosphere, and burning of effigies—is held in a 7-square-mile temporary city on the Black Rock Desert playa. This is one of the flattest and driest places on Earth, and this year it saw nearly 3 months’ worth of precipitation over the course of 24 hours. Tropical Storm Hilary brought heavy rains to the Burning Man site, causing a gate closure for guests ahead of the festival’s start. The downpour almost immediately transformed the dry desert surface into mud. Most vehicles became trapped and officials urged attendees to shelter in place and conserve resources, while some made the hike (5 miles) to the nearest town. Traffic for the 72,000 people getting out of there was brutal to say the least. Reading these stories reminded me of a concert at what was then called Nissan Pavilion near the Bull Run battlefield in Virginia. The concert ended in a sudden downpour, and the drive for 20,000 people up the narrow road to Route 66 took longer than the concert itself.

Back to Burning Man. The event was founded with the best of intentions. According to https://burningman.org/about/10-principles/ these are the ten principles…

Radical inclusion, Gifting, Decommodification, Radical self-reliance, Radical self-expression, Communal effort, Civic responsibility, Leaving no trace, Participation, and Immediacy.

They sort of have the right idea. But it is increasingly expensive. A former work colleague was a somewhat regular attendee. Their first Burning Man was 2002, and back then it cost around $40 a ticket. The last year they went was 2016, and the cost exceeded $400 a ticket. Now it’s at least $700 + a car fee. Way too much for a spot in the desert. And my colleague noted that in 2016, they waited 8 hours in line to get in, along with 3 hours in line to leave a day early. Brutal indeed.

So where did Burning Man go wrong? First of all, there is logistics. Burning Man erects a temporary town in the Nevada desert. Supply lines and an infrastructure need to be put in place. Something the organizers did not count on was climate change. Rain in the desert? Check. Aside from the logistical challenges that arise from planning large events, and the possibility of external emergencies, there also is the risk of festivals failing because of poor management.

Burning Man will likely go on next year, as will so many annual events.

Confession time – I haven’t been involved with organizing such a large and complex event as Burning Man. But I’ve organized tons of events involving hundreds of attendees, coordinated tens of thousands of flights and reservations, been on countless site visits, trusted untold number of vendors and partners, and spent hours anticipating/countering anything that could possibly go wrong. Something always does. It is how you respond that makes the difference.