The Lakota water lady is an unsung hero of our age

Somewhere in the Bible, Moses tells of a particularly heavy drum and bass night at Lakota where the heavens opened. The drums were so heavy, and the bass was so bassy that by six in the morning, when only the sweaty, gurning few remained, the walls began to shake. A great rumbling, thundering noise arose as if the club was screaming along to those sick 150–180 BPM breakbeats, and with a huge crash all the lights died.

When they came back on, every raver turned in astonishment to the little corridor to the right of the main stage where previously there had just been a wall. In its place stood a bar. But this bar was no ordinary bar, for it charged (basically) no fees and it had only one goal – to hydrate the masses.

Not with alcohol, not even Red Stripe. Nay, the one weapon in its eternal battle against thirst was water: humble, lowly H2O.

Thirsty?

And who would lead the charge in this fight? Who would work through the night to refill little plastic cups with delicious fluid, to watch with eagle eyes for any sign of water fountain breakage, to take your pre-purchased and empty water bottle with a firm hand and return it to its former, filled-to-the-brim splendour?

Of course, you know the answer. She’s the daughter of water, the quench wench, the sage, new ho of H2O, the most magnificent master of moistness. Yeah, that’s right: she’s the goddamn Lakota water lady.

She has no age, for she is eternal, and she has no nationality, for she is universal. Her true name, when uttered, has magical properties. It turns any given song into psytrance, and is coincidentally also the middle name of Shy FX and Congo Natty’s illegitimate love child.

You don’t need Red Stripe when you have her

Her tears are so nutritious, one measly drop could cure Africa’s drought crises, and Wikipedia lists her as the second largest body of fresh water globally, nestled between Lake Baikal and Lake Tanganyika.

Yes, I know she charges 50p for a full bottle refill but that’s only so she can fulfil her lifelong dream of booking DJ EZ as headliner for the next Binary Vision and the happiness of a hero is priceless. Yes, her demeanour can be cold and hard, but this belies the deep compassion which constantly pushes her to water more people in less time. We shouldn’t be so arrogant to expect conversation or indeed recognition of existence from a stoic being who can transcend dimensions and (it is rumoured) travel through time.

As the lush oasis in Lakota’s pill-induced desert of dehydration, this woman both enables and represents every raver’s thirst for life, and for this she must be celebrated. So next time you’re there, whether it be for TRiBE of FRoG, SHAK OUT, Cubana or Wide Eyes, pay her a visit and as she wordlessly takes your drinks vessel of choice, do not criticise her for her pricing structure, do not tell her to smile, do not engage in idle, druggy chatter.

Instead, smile and let her know the infinite depths of your gratitude. After all, she could kill you and everyone you love with a click of those tap-caressing fingers if she wanted to. It’s best to be in her good books.