Hash Trash #1183
So there’s this Gary Larson FAR SIDE cartoon where the characters are in hell, and this one idiot is working away all happy, unfazed by his situation; Satan and his assistant cant understand why this guy isn’t miserable and suffering.
That would sum up Trail 1183, though its not apparent if the happy idiot was the Hare or the rest of us.
After a near-cancellation, and concerns for attendance by our various important mismanagment, our always smiling Hare ATM was informed his trail start would be changed to 430; he informed us that would be no problem as he could handle absences, money, time changes, whatever; he had it in the bag and was bringing 6 virgins to boot. Besides he had Schmeg helping. No sweat.
OK so all of that should have been quite enough in terms of warning signs, but hey Hashing is about a little bit of adventure.
Arrival was perfectly synchronized to coincide with the end of the Ravens game a few blocks away. Its now 430, and who would have thought so many people would want to drive to a football game. But our mob had formed in the appointed trash strewn Park while jacked up muscle cars gunned their engines on the little drive where we gathered… and others drove by looking for two hundred yards advantage on their brethren stuck out on the road….. lets see who was there…. Grand Mattress… fossil… $5I… NCLB… PnD…. Park n ride in her new car…. Little Drawers… Fey, others, about 18….. So everything ready to go EXCEPT THE HARES, who are at the Impound Lot trying to rescue ATMs towed car, but the A-holes at the Lot insisted he show ID, so that sort of left him out of the game since he had also lost his wallet in an unrelated incident earlier that day. That apparently caused a ripple effect on being able to purchase flour, as we were to discover later. Thanks be to our Lord God of Beer, that ATM and Schmeg he had gotten our holy beverages before he lost that wallet, because he had lots. Though i was surprised that in Baltimwhore he couldn’t find the holy fluids of Beergod’s only son, Natty Boh, who gaveth his right eye on behalf of drinking and hashing. tut tut.
So its about 520pm while everyone is awaiting our Hares’ return a half hour ago and we are creating new options for a trail… Pick up Hash… Fatboy around the park… or fuckit, Direct to On After… Suddenly Schmeg and ATM roar up and we flex to a trail that will get us back before dark, because oh by the way your cars will be towed then.
Off we go. a quarter mile later, hopelessly lost, like scouting with Something Black. We seek clues. The Hare points. another quarter mile. repeat. again. The Hare has to poke us with a stick to make us go and we can’t find any marks. Finally the Hare just sweeps along behind for this band of lazy wankers. Much interesting shiggy, notably places in the woods, under the freeways, casual dumps, railroad tracks, where people are living. Various sketchy characters lounging around in strange places looking like theyre about to graffitti tag something or buy dope or blow somebody for 5 bucks. Some have a lot of furniture. I told you them food stamps are spoiling the poor. makes’em lazy. After a suitably long way we find ourselves mercifully at a beer check manned by our plucky assistant Schmeg. Eternal optimist ATM says we could be back in 30 minutes on the runners trail. uh huh. yeah. Instead we beg to go home mommy and drink before our cars get towed.
Back at circle, we welcummed ATM’s two guests- just kristen who hashed with us in Annapolis, and just virgin gluten free colleen – both so cute and friendly we forget about the other 4 virgins/newbies that ATM promised. So no hot young easily persuadable males as requested by NCLB. They seemed to enjoy themselves anyway. Perhaps they’ll come back if they are as clueless and easily amused as the rest of us, or if they need another dose of sticky leching by some of our perpetually virile and desireable male hashers no matter how much the age difference. if they do i got dibs. At any rate they both are looking forward to more woods and shiggy.
We called forth the Hares, who it must be admitted, had endured quite a day and pulled it off. Alas, there seems to be no mercy in Hashing and they got ample opportunities to cleanse their souls with our holy beverage. At one point, someone was going to throw down the following rap, but brain farted:
Its ATM with his long curly locks;
he did the dirty deed with our campout ice block.
yes hes charming and zesty, has an attitude of sass;
but the Harriets just like him for his tight little ass
FRB was No Child, and DFL was taken up by a small crowd of people inlcuding Mi Racki and some others. Safety Violations were handed out and Fey produced TWO Safety Thurds from her car. Overachiever. Birthday greetings and an ass gauntlet were held for Schmeg and Silence of the Clams. EZ Lipps and Saintly Suds continued to milk their departure to Hawaii, letting us again make a big deal about them, and promising once again to leave. The Circle’s sexiest hasher, the beer bitch, was Cleanup, though his duties were frequently disrupted by being violated. He and T Security spent half the trail on their phones to each other, she shortcutting up to the mob, and he driving around trying to get unlost. but he made it to the beer check, the mark of an expert hasher.
So once it got dark enough and scary things started to move in our peripheral vision like the dinosaur raptors in a movie, we decided to skeddadle. All in all, another Hashing adventure, well handled under adversity by ATM and the unflappable and generous Schmeg. And someone now has a great story to tell about Haring their first trail. The On After was at Nicks Fish Market.
So On On to 1184.
anycock’ll do me