When reminded of the upcoming event known by insiders as "Burning Man", San Francisco denizens will have a variety of associations come to mind when evoking the costly desert Bacchanalia. Lube caked with playa dust. Anonymous sex with people who haven't showered in a week. Oh, and lots of creative enlightenment peppered with drug busts, heatstroke and, um, community. But here at home among clinic workers and sex hotline operators, our thoughts are about the souvenirs that keep on giving long after the man has burned and the ozone has thinned a bit more: ever-rising STD and STI reports. It's no wonder the attendees are called "burners."

But before you end up at Herpes Camp holding a cardboard sign that reads "will trade water for antibiotics and Famvir" do, as we say, "know before you blow".

SFist Violet has a perfect attendance record for Burning Man, and she isn't going to the desert this year, either.

The first in our three-part series of perspectives on Burning Man. Today we hook up, tomorrow we Rant, and Thursday we Rave.