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Piss clear or die!
Really, we can't stress strongly enough just how important it is to drink enough water so that you piss clear. I mean, it's the title of our damn newspaper for a reason! But despite the best of intentions, sometimes even those of us on staff here at the Piss Clear offices are prone to fuck up. For instance, last year, our punk rock opera diva campmate Karen apparently did not take the title of this publication to heart. Although she claimed she was drinking enough water, the little sips here and there simply didn't cut it. By our second night in Black Rock City, she was feeling sick, vomiting into a plastic bag (Leave No Trace!) and ending up at the medical station. Whoops. Okay, so she was a bit of a clueless newbie, but still! She was camped with Piss Clear, for fuck's sake! I mean, what if this gets out? I felt like such the exasperated mother, having to drag my mushroom-tripping ass down to Central Camp to retrieve her from the medics. "Sorry, Mom," she said as soon as she saw my disapproving face, as she sat with an IV dripping into her arm, looking paler than a ghost. She ended up needing four, count 'em, four IV packs pumped into her before she was able to start feeling normal again. Just for some perspective, they usually send you away on a Medevac after three. She got herself fucked up, but she also got lucky. "Karen, what did you do?" I implored, worried about her. She assured me that she was fine, so then I started to worry about our esteemed newspaper's reputation, given our title and all. "You didn't tell them you were with Piss Clear, did you?" I asked accusingly. "No, I told them I was camped in Disturbia," she told me. "And they said, 'That figures.'" |
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