We are riding the bus back to our campsite after a long night of dancing, the walk is too far after all the time on our feet, so we are thankful for the luxury. This is your first time at a folk festival, and my first time at Folkfest so I’m glad we’re both having fun. As the bus rides along we whisper about the ridiculous five dollar shower fee, and what we’re going to do about it.
“There’s a sink right out front,” you say casually. I hold you close so as to not slip off the short seats, and as I do, I notice the warmth radiating off you even in the cold night air.
“What do you mean?” I respond.
“I mean, you could wash your pits and stuff right there, you’re a guy, no one will care.”
I smirk at the idea, I’d have to figure out a way to give myself access to my body, while keeping it hidden. “I could go shirtless and just wear a skirt to cover my junk with easy access.” You tilt your head as if contemplating the image and then nod vigorously. “Well what about you, I don’t want you feeling smelly and gross just because of bullshit standards.”