Hash Trash #1280
The Community College of Baltimore County, Catonsville, once again hosted a motley gathering of characters in search of our most holy beverage, beer, this past Sunday, for BAH3’s 1280th trail. EMC and Just Ari volunteered to find us somewhere interesting to go, and came up with a very pleasant, relaxing, generally quick and easy stroll through some pretty woods and fields. Wait a second, that was not exactly what happened. They punished us severely, had barely enough beer and shots, got us lost, stung, sore, cut, beaten up, and generally set a trail that was exactly what the BAH3 loves. But I get ahead of myself, let me back up.
Hashers gathered. There were many new faces, some virgins, and some of the usual crew. After NEC introduced himself, gave the virgins just enough rope to hang themselves, introduced the hashers, and led us in a prayer, the pack dove into the woods. And that was the last I saw of NEC. The pack made their way, in a respectably squiggly line, down to the Patapsco, where the runners and walkers parted ways. I don’t know exactly how, or where, the runners were supposed to cross the Patapsco, but I do know we were, because the next thing I found was marks going straight up a cliff for a distance of at least nine miles. That was fun, and, luckily, only the beginning.
Over the next few miles the pack was treated to mud, thorns, hills, rocks, and all manner of generally acceptable shiggy. We also managed to scare some muggles, and eventually, some 3.5 miles after we started, we found EMC with some adult chocolate milk. That was pleasant, but by that time the best part of his shot check was the water he had too. Continuing on, we made it back down to the river, and eventually across it. I think that’s where NEC, using his finely developed sense of hash direction, went no-no on the walkers trail, only to end up arriving back at the start in someone’s car. You might have noticed there’s been no beer check yet. Well, the pack had noticed this as well. Luckily, that lack was eventually remedied, some 5.5 miles and an hour and a half after starting, the beer appeared.
Thankfully it was all downhill from there. Figuratively speaking. It was still uphill to the finish. After the last hashers finally made it to the end (where DID you go Lick Stick?) NEC held a closing circle. Many violators of our holy traditions were given their traditional punishment, the virgins were reintroduced to the circle, and officially deflowered, much beer was drunk. The pack attempted to name Just Ari, but though there were many, many interesting things to learn about that wayward soul, the collective creativity of a few dozen drunk wankers wasn’t quite enough to come up with just the right name, so Just Ari will be Just Ari for at least another week.
Other items of note: hashers hiding underwater after disturbing a bee’s nest. Did anyone get a count of total stings? It was a lot. A very pleasant Orthodox Jew family, apparently out for a stroll, “looking for water”. I hope they told someone they were out there, because they might still be there otherwise.
On-on
A Phone Named Gerbil