I finally learned to share at age 41
“Welcome to Burning Man,” I thought to myself, “It’s your second day on the Playa, and you’ve already failed at Radical Self-Reliance.”
At 10:30 a.m. on Thursday, I sat alone in a hot tent in the middle of the desert, hours away from the nearest town. I tried hard not to cry and failed.
The issue? I had taken stock of my supplies and realized my situation was dire.
I had clothes for hot and cold weather. I had 16 pairs of socks and underwear packed in little Ziploc baggies, so I wouldn’t have dust in my tender nether regions. I had baby wipes, sunscreen, a hydration pack, and goggles. Hell, I had extra insoles for my shoes. All I was missing was adequate food and electrolytes. I had a lot of dehydrated food, but I needed boiling water. I wouldn’t have that until Friday night.
Still, as things go, food was a small emergency. The electrolytes were the real problem. You only think about electrolytes if you have the flu, are an athlete, or are sweating in the desert. They are in Gatorade and Emergen-C. In potato chips and salt shakers. You find them all over the place when you’re in a normal environment. In the desert, however, they are rare.
