Hash Trash #1103 – And That’s The Way It Was
Ahhhh that post-hash feeling in my loins…. no not that burning sensation…. a good legs workout… and the feeling of satisfaction you get when you make wankers humiliate themselves to endure idiotic places for the satisfaction of pure beer pleasure. mmmmm. .. Haring.
So I would be surprised if your usual Hash Scribe Film at 11 can create any kind of memo from the trail. She showed up at the start drunk wearing cleated bicycle shoes, with a story of being forced to offer the parking lot attendant $5, her phone, and a “personal favor” to get her car out of hock. She just intended to watch the wankers and drink, until she was informed there would be a drainage tunnel on the trail, which caused the Hash Reaction, that urge to experience something that sensible people would simply turn down as irresponsible, or dangerous, or dirty, or idiotic, etc.
She joined a crowd numbering in the hundreds, including Amber Alert, Fey LEY, Amelia Airhead, Amazon, Just Elsie, Just Chewy, Bobbin 4 Buttplugs, Velvet Vulva, At Your Cervix, HoseHead, just Nicole, and various other miscreants, for a leisurely exploration of the Bowie Fairwood McMansion development across from Freeway Airport on Rt 50. Jizzercise 5Guys and SloMan ambled in from the MVH3 eastern shore gig so had already hashed once that day. Talk about desperate. Certain unnamed harrietts in tights sported camel toes and we heartily approved. Or I did anyway.
Well so who would have guessed that so close to this suburb you could find so many snakes, turtles, varmint holes, barbed wire, swamps and yes even a drainage tunnel under the freeway, a rarity on this side of the beltway. After braving confusing directions to get to the hash, then once they got there, about the trail itself, the mob was off. A short out and back to the start for the first beer check. Gosh that Hare is so very clever, besides being such a handsome gent. Thence to the first shot check on a high promontory (read “big pile of dirt”) overlooking the countryside, with genuine deer body parts as a wonderful eco-surprise for our wankers. Yummy bottled long guyland ice tea shots.
Much open field running in the hole strewn pastures and power line right of ways. Another trickf*ck out-n-back through chest high grass and squishy ground along the freeway. Plenty of those awesome green vine stickers to rip everyody’s legs. Running through the landing pattern of the little puddlejumper planes weaving in for a touch down. Another beer check. A nice crawl under a wire fence and a jaunt through the mostly dry tunnel under Rt 50 for some berry flavored shot check stuff. A short hike through somebody’s yard, a bit o’ pavement, and a deer skull complete with jaw bones, then by a half acre of daffodils in the lonely but beautiful yard of one of the few original houses from the development, now abandoned to the rest of the mcmansion morons.
And then the hallowed BN, our beacon in the sun, bringing wankers home to the welcoming arms of beer and false accusations. Slow Man took the duties as RA and pretty much everybody agreed the trail was The Best Ever, and the Hare was Todally Cool. Just Nicole got named for her numerous nocturnal graveyard indiscretions involving the resting place of Walter Cronkite while she was a pearl-wearing southern girl student at UNC, and thus she shall be remembered forever and ever as And Thats the Lay it Was; or maybe ATTLIW for short. After leaving her with that unfortunate tag, the mob dispersed to The Glory Hole; drinking and eating commenced, perversions abounded, Lady J proved in tittilating fashion she wont need cosmetic surgery anytime soon, the desperate I meant DEDICATED ProBoner rolled in from his reserve weekend down south, people argued over who had (got) to take care of Film, and we tried to stick ATTLIW with the check. Suddenly, everybody left.
And Thats The Way It Was, at BAH3 1103.