Little Pink and her co-hare Allofher Fist got us into the shiggy right
away. The trail led us over rocks and gravel until we quickly emerged at
our first beer stop. Those smart hares realized that hashers hate to be
separated from our beer for too long. We enjoyed popsicles and stimulating
(!) conversation with our beer, until it was time to move out. The trail
led us to the zoo where Wrong Number (who was an honorary hare for this
leg of the hash) made sure we all got into the park. As we ran by various
wild animal exhibits, hashers really did "scare small children and woodland
animals." However, because our timekeeper Pukey McLimey Licker has a problem
with confusing his 8s and his 15s, some speedy hashers managed to catch
up to the hares. Forced to spend 15 minutes at the monkey house, Heiferfearzen
tossed around the idea of starting a poop-throwing contest with the monkeys.
The hash once again got under way, but was quickly sidelined at a
check. Beat by a Girl's decision to check a restricted area for signs
of trail (and then yelling at the park ranger who was watching him not
to follow him because he hadn't found trail) led to an escorted exit from
the park. Deet Throat managed to escape by pretending to be a park visitor
who just happened to follow certain marks on the ground. The key,
she explained, was to walk and run discreetly. The hash united once again
at the exit, and the zoo keepers released a collective sigh of relief that
they had gotten rid of at least some of the wild animals in the park.
After that leisurely stroll, none of us expected the shigalicious second half of the trail. Heading back to the rocks and cacti of Papago Park, all the hashers without flashlights attempted to not break their ankles or twist their knees while all the hashers with flashlights pointed and laughed. Several long false trails slowed down the perennial FRBs (IKOG, Luuger, Out of Order, etc) and kept the pack together. Despite fears of bodily harm, the hash made it to the second beer stop with nary a drop of blood. When we arrived, we discovered that Allofher had filled our karmic quota of injuries by taking two spills during the laying of the trail. Her knee was bloodied and bruised, but she laid trail through the on in. At the second beer stop, we once again enjoyed popsicles, beer, and warm water. Cant Cum on Saturday showed us the impressive size of her flashlight, comparing it favorably to Bush Yakker (lucky girl).
The last leg of the trail began with more shiggy, but quickly turned
to asphalt as we snaked our way to the on in. Short and sweet, the trail
led us right back to Ramada 13, where the hares had laid an impressive
spread of food. Hashers enjoyed everything from sandwiches to chips to
cookies to wieners (well, we always enjoy wieners, so I guess that
isn't so special). A large turnout and our general greed for alcohol
meant that the tap had run dry, but Deet Throat was kind enough to drive
Luuger and Pink to refresh the kegs. In the meantime, the hash ate, joked,
and drew sexually explicit images on the table (hate to be the parent of
a kid who visited the park the next day). Pink bravely faced the park
ranger who was being a dick (and not in the good way) and we were left
to go along our drunken, merry way. Upon the return of the beer, circle
began in haste, with Wombie as its leader. The hares, of course, drank
for that shitty trail. A whole rash of hashers got stuck drinking for peeing
on trail – guess that's what happens when you run by a real bathroom. With
the shark-like circling of the nasty park ranger, the circle quickly adjourned
to the on-afters at the British Open.
Officially, of course, that trail sucked. But unofficially, thanks Pink for giving us something fun to do on a Friday. Looking forward to the next one!
on - hope this is good bathroom reading - on
bush straddler
PS: if i got any of this wrong, well, . . . its hash trash. i'm sure
it didnt take away from your
wanking off time anyway ; ).