Thirst Trap: Water You Gonna Do?! 

(Based on true events) 

On Sept. 10, 2025, students of St. Lawrence University succumbed to a fate almost as bad as the TikTok ban – no clean water for over 24 hours. It was the end of the world as we knew it. Sweaty athletes stunk up Dana Dining Center, clammy hands dropped plates, causing a ceaseless clattering, and the beloved cranberry cocktail was nowhere to be found. 

Then, the obvious question dawned: What were people drinking instead of water? 

After hours of interviews with students and faculty alike – I kid you not – every response was still water. Most people stocked up on bottled water from Northstar Café and the various vending machines around campus. Once those ran out, students resorted to Price Chopper and Walmart. Nicholas Thompson ‘26 even traveled an hour north to his hometown to refill a gallon jug from his home tap. He also took water from a food pantry. 

One anonymous student claimed to have drunk their own urine. I was thrilled to report on it – until they admitted it was a lie. 

In the midst of my exhausting search for the most outlandish water substitution on campus, it hit me: I may have had, in fact, the most elite, creative solutions all along. 

Now get ready, and pocket these for later, because the following may simultaneously shock you and save your life one day:

1. I found a nearly full bottle of Fiji water in my backpack — leftover from a ski trip last winter. Expired? Maybe. Cold? No. Pretentious? Absolutely. Worth it? Every sip. 

2. I boiled the leftover water from my housemate’s ramen and drank it. Salty. Savory. Surprisingly hydrating.

3. I drove to Harts Falls and filled an ice tray with nature preserve water, treated each cube with Aquamira, and then swallowed them unmelted. Was it technically water? Yes. Did I feel like a genius? Also yes. 

4. I then snuck into the science lounge and stuck a Lifestraw into the axolotl tank. Just like the anonymous student, I drank urine. Only I am certainly not lying. 

5. I went to the sauna in Newell Field House. I sat patiently until someone joined me, then licked the sweat off their arm. They looked at me like I was insane! 

6. I cried into a cup and drank my own tears. Emotionally dehydrating. Physically? Surprisingly effective. 

7. By Hour 23, I gave up. I drank nothing. I transcended thirst and became one with the idea of hydration. 

I did not survive the water outage — I dominated it. 

And in the end, no – it was not as bad as the TikTok ban. It was worse. Because at least the TikTok ban did not taste vaguely amphibious (4). 

So next time the fire hydrants start flooding Main Street, do not panic. Just check your backpack, raid your ramen, and never underestimate the power of human desperation. 

Hydration is everywhere… if you’re bold enough to drink it.