What Goes Around...
By Dr. Lizard
02.02.03
It was 1996, and I had been wandering around for a while. Pepe's opera
had begun and I had a good view. It was hard to make much sense out of
the opera, especially in my somewhat enhanced state, but I was enjoying
the spectacle.
Quite suddenly, I felt myself overcome by a wave of dizziness. It overtook
me so quickly that I sat down promptly in one swift motion, lest I keel
over on the spot. Speaking of spots, as I sat there surrounded by strangers,
the spots in my vision danced and pulsed. That part I had experienced
before, but the waves of weakness startled me. Sitting cross-legged I
felt safe from collapsing but I was queasy and unsteady. Gulping back
"the fear" I put my head down in my hands and tried to reason
with myself.
"What is this? What brought this on? I've never felt this before.
Did I eat something bad? No haven't eaten in a while. Could I be dehydrated?
But it's night. Can you get dehydrated at night?" That was when I
realized that I wasn't carrying water... and I hadn't had a drink in --
well, by my most approximate guess, about three hours. I had been running
around in the desert, talking to people, checking stuff out. And the weather
was calm and cool. The sun had set long ago. But the alkali... it is hygroscopic,
I knew that. It's the technical term for a mineral that absorbs water
from its surroundings. Gypsum and talc are common examples. And the playa
contains a lot of gypsum. It sucks the moisture right out of you.
I recalled seeing a girl blithely walking across the encampment suddenly
keel over the day before. Rangers ran in and knelt by her. Dehydration.
It hits you suddenly. They took her away on a stretcher.
Now that I was sure what had happened to me, the next step was what to
do, Though I was surrounded by burners, I felt more than a little tongue-tied,
and also embarrassed. Could I make it back to camp? I knew I didn't have
the strength. Then I realized, I had been talking to a guy with an art
car -- Host -- you know, the van with the Beetle welded on top, just before
the opera started. He should be parked about thirty feet behind me if
he hasn't moved. He'll have water!
I rested a few moments and then, summoning my remaining strength, stood
and turned. Yup, the Host was still there. In retrospect I still don't
know why I didn't just ask whoever was next to me for water. But I didn't.
Half falling, half walking, I pushed through the seething churning crowd
and stumbled toward the van. Mike (I think that's his name -- don't hate
me if I get it wrong ok?) was there, and talking with some very cute girls.
It occurred to me that perhaps I shouldn't interrupt, but this was a matter
of life or death! Somewhat rudely, I imagine, I stumbled up and leaned
on the van.
"I need some water, man -- I think I 'm dehydrated" I managed
to blurt out.
He smiled gently, reached behind him into the van, and handed me a quart
bottle of water, right out of the cooler -- sealed. I remember it was
crystal geyser. I downed the whole bottle, and stayed leaning against
the van while my strength came back. It was uncanny. I never want to feel
that again.
Once I felt better, I thanked Mike profusely and headed back to camp.
The girls had stuck around, though they didn't seem to think very highly
of me. I was just glad that Mike had had some water. When I got to camp,
I drank half a gallon before I stopped feeling thirsty. Then I stayed
up the rest of the night and had a great time!
So let that be a warning to you. By the time you feel it, it will be too
late. Drink water at all times. Piss clear.
But my story does not end there. The following year -1997- I brought two
quart bottles of crystal geyser with me. They were in the cooler from
home to the desert, despite my campmates' entreaties to make more room.
No I said, when I see this guy, I have to repay his gift -- twofold. And
I want it to be ice-cold. They didn't understand. By the fifth day, I
was wondering if he would even show.
But then I saw it, the Host, meandering across the desert. I ran to the
cooler, grabbed the water bottles, and ran toward where I 'd seen the
van. It was a ways off. He had stopped and gotten out. As I approached,
I saw he was talking to two guys. Before I got within earshot, I saw the
two guys turn and walk away, dejected. A few moments later, he turned
and saw me.
"Hey! Remember me? I just wanted to thank you for the water you gave
me last year. You saved my life!" I held out the two frosty bottles
of water to him.
His expression as he looked at the bottles, then at me, was not at all
what I expected. His face fell, and sadly, he gestured at the two guys,
now too far away to call out to. "Those guys? They just asked me
for water, and I said no, because I've given away so much water already
this year I'm worried we won't have enough for ourselves. And now here
you are."
Our eyes met with the knowing understanding that accompanies a playa parable.
