A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
19 October 2008
Our scene opens on Hill Road, a quaint, pothole speckled dirt lane nestled deep within the beautiful Danby State Forest. There was a certain nip in the October air. At approximately 3pm SHT, IH3 hashers began to emerge from the woodwork. First to appear was the hasher-who-was-certainly-not-the-hare, Spike. Next, the harriette Just Brianne and her chocolate colored pup Gunner arrived, followed closely by it Beats it Blind and I, Just Delana. Before the hash commenced, we’d gained a few more local hashers (and two virgins), including:
Master Baster; Always a Bridesmaid, Just Torrey and pup, Lula; Virgins Just Sarah and Just Shawna; Freeze Frame and Thunder Thighs; Poke Her Hienis and pup and friend’s pup; and Butt Floss and his crazy hashpup, Shocker.
After a quick bout of chalk talk, the hare-less hashers received a hint from Spike, who was certainly-not-the-hare, that the trail proceeded down Hill Road and they all got off… I mean… took off. Trail headed down Hill Road and eventually into the woods of Danby State park, damn dogs running all around. On! On! and on and on and on… and on… through 2 miles of shiggy, over the leaf-laden forest floor, onto the Finger Lakes Trail. “Who SET this trail and where-oh-where is the beer?” I wondered.
It was a scenic jaunt, we should give the mysterious hare that much. The trail’s soft footing was bathed with sun spilling through the trees. Like Piglet, Pooh and Roo gallivanting through the 100-Acre Wood, we nimbly jetted through the trees and bramble.
Finally a check brought FRBs Bridesmaid, Thunder Thighs, Freeze Frame, Floss and Baster to a halt. Floss was sent straight ahead. I caught up and was barely able to catch my breath before we heard his calls of ON! ON! ON! We shot out of the woods only to see the always-exciting floury BN mark waiting for us. But Floss had overshot the loot and was now confused. (He’d forgotten his glasses.) It was hidden oh-so-cleverly in the woods to our right. Bridesmaid found the *cough*tiny*cough* cooler of beer and tossed it out to the group of thirsty hashers.
But our thirst was not quite quenched. We were off in search of more beer in no time at all. The trail continued out to the dirt road and passed the Danby Pirates Club — arrrrr, a sweet hashview, fer sherr.
The second leg of the trail turned out to be considerably more shiggy-filled, i.e. delightful. We followed trail up a bank full of thorny rose bushes and into the woods once again. Now, I don’t remember when the transition to a huge-hill-hike occurred exactly, but I do recall it was well before we’d received our second injection of beer. We climbed up and up… and up and up and up. At some point lost all of my fellow hashers, as each of us was concentrating hard on his or her climb to the top of what seemed like Mt. Everest.
Finally the hill leveled out and trail led back into plush shiggy. Down the other side of the hill we stumbled, only to see that we had to slide on our butts to the beer. “The only way to the beer is down,” jeered the FRBs. Never one to turn away a PBR, Beats It Blind hiked up Mouthful’s baby blue shorts and plopped to his butt. Down the dirt hill he slid. Into a tree he crashed. Broken balls he succumbed. Luckily he is a resilient hasher and would do anything to get to beer…
The final leg of trail journeyed along the road and back to the cars for circle. Spike, who was certainly-not-the-hare, was nominated to drink for the afternoon’s hash, coined then as the “Best of ’08” because of it’s long, hard, exciting, new… tall, dark, handsome, muscular… wait, I mean shiggy-filled, hilly trail. Virgins Just Sarah and Just Shawna were introduced – thanks to Just Torrey for bring them out! We learned that, given the opportunity, they’d choose to enjoy intimate relations with Papa Smurf and Popeye, respectively. Baster, Floss and Just Torrey were given down-downs for their recent r*cism activities. Bridesmaid, Floss and Baster drank as FRBs. Beats It, Floss and Just Brianne drank as DFLs. Surely others drank, but frankly I was too cold and lazy to pay attention.
On-on (…and on and on and on…),
jd