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Long distance relationships: the evilest drug of all
You may feel you want to or need to, but whatever you do, don't do the LDR (Long Distance Relationship). Black Rock City is a magical place, but the laws of relationship physics still apply. The best things in life are unrequited. The drugs, dust, and dehydration will all conspire to make you fall for that spicy, green-haired raver or that beefcake with the facial tattoos - but don't do it. Burning Man is the land of multiple personas, various layers of reality, and intentional mind-fucks. Most people don't even use their real names, for Chrissakes! Playa names are sort of the honky version of rap handles in some twisted attempt to gain street-cred (or is that playa-cred?) within the community. Except of course, for the top guy, who is, strangely enough, just named Larry. So you spend the whole week doing the boing-boing with somebody named Cubit and you start to think you are soooo compatible because, amazingly, you both share a rare interest in drugs and sex. You'll be thinking, "Life has never been like this. All my friends back home are holding me back. Life is short, this is the way I want to spend the rest of it." You share dusty, tearful goodbyes, exchanging cell and e-mail coordinates, and then, about halfway home, you start thinking, "Oh shit!" And the more you re-hydrate and start eating protein again, and the more time passes, that voice just keeps getting louder and louder. "Oh shit, I just told this person to come visit me anytime. Oh shit, what if they really look like that all the time? Oh shit, I left enough DNA in that van to start a new civilization. Oh shit, I really sort of like my quiet life in Iowa. Oh shit! Why didn't I just masturbate instead!" The only thing that saves you is that the other person, in some other state or some other country, is also thinking, "Oh shit!"
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