A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
Moments later, I pulled into a parking lot across from the Cornell Plantations. It was 2:69HST and there was not another hasher in sight. I pondered. I waited. I got nervous. A mere 10 minutes passed and suddenly the parking lot came to life. 4% Erectus pulled up in his vehicle, claiming to have driven from a vast distance of 7 minutes away. The man on the bicycle rolled in and proclaimed himself Just Leland. CoCo and P.O. pulled in their respective cars. Beers were passed around and lounging about began. All we were missing, it seemed, was the Hare.
And lo! Master Baster, backpack and flour sack on, comes walking in off the road. As he joined us and began taking account of who came and how many times Just Leland ought to pay, I ducked behind some bushes for a rest and found evidence of someone else’s good time – a tattered and torn pair of Thursday panties that joined us for the impending chalk talk.
As we started to circle up, another vehicle pulled up, interested in what we were doing. It was a white SUV that read ‘Cornell Police’ on the side. A young, eager officer stepped out, hands at the ready at his waist, and Baster stepped up to welcome him into our little family. The rest of us nonchalantly put away our beverages and appeared unconcerned by this intrusion and settled in to wait it out. After politely asking Baster what the contents of his bag were and requesting that he “set the bag down and step away from it, sir”, Officer Sandytunt whipped out his little black book and tried to determine if Baster was a terrorist. Apparently, a Cuntcerned Clitizen called in a report that “someone was putting white powder on the flowers”. Officer Sandytunt soon had backup arrive in the form of Officer Krupke, a walrus of a man if I’ve ever seen one. Baster was promptly discovered to be just the person he claimed to be and at 3:40pm we were left in peace.
As the friendly officers were pulling away, who should pull up but Porcelain Goddess? Good timing, Peeg! Chalk talk was quickly convened and we were off, happy to be on our way.
We zipped along the creek, enjoying the gorges Ithaca spring — azaleas, redbuds (even though they’re purple), magnolias, bizarre swamp flowers with no leaves sticking up like alien tentacles, ornamental cherry, wisteria, huffable lilacs and a million other intensely blooming plants intoxicated us with their fantastical aphrodisiastical sexy sexiness.
Our Hash View disintegrated into a Hash Rest complete with rolling around on the ground with Zephyr and loitering on sculpture. When we realized there was no beer there, we continued on but not for long. A tit check! During Cornell Law School Graduation Weekend!?! We waited for a sloooowly driving young Asian woman to figure out where she was going before PG honored us with her right tit.
After traversing a mysterious black tarp that covered an entire hillside and was held down by a myriad of sandbags (What is under there? Alien landing? Vet School Frankenbeagles? Erosion control [probably not]?) we emerged in front of Schoellkopf Field to find THREE exciting things;
In no particular order of excitement
1. Frozen Pretzels
2. Beer
3. Ookie Cookie
It seems that Mr. Cookie was following trail backward after seeing Baster setting trail from afar and chose to start from that vantage point rather than joining us at the beginning. He finally met up with us and respectfully stayed a DFL the rest of the way since he knew where we were going. Just Leland raided a freezer and thawed out a doughy pretzel in his shorts and offered it around. Only Peeg took a bite, not knowing it was a pants pretzel. PO’s Bitch enjoyed the rest and all the dogs enjoyed some ice while we discovered that Old Vienna is a highly drinkable beer.
Cutting across the football field, harriers frolicked with their more agile and lighter-weight dogs while Old Clumsy Heavy Rhea and I trotted down to the right stairway to make our way down to the field. When we reached the stairs, I noted flour and looked up to see what was happening with the tiny people far far away across the astroturf. The trail seemed to go through a locked gate, 12 feet tall and impassable. How to get around with big dogs? Up and behind, another locked gate but this one with a little more give — squeezing through 4%, Rhea, PO, PO’s Bitch and I caught up with the others who were able to surmount the surrounding wall. My stint as FRB did not last long!
Into the Arts Quad we stop for a song check. Um. Did we lose someone? Where’s PG? How did we lose her? Are we going to find out tomorrow that she spent the night on a trucker mattress? CoCo ran back to fruitlessly look for her. Well, I guess she’s on her own for now – she’s a big girl, she’ll figure it out. Song Check! In honor of Mother’s Day – When It’s Incest Time in Texas, Mother F*cking Can’t Be Beat!
Checking! And what do we see up ahead? A short-cutting wanker and her dog, Zephyr. I guess we won’t have to involve the Po Po for the 2nd time today, Thank Gispert.
Up and around near Beebe Lake lovely little hidden spot for some delicious jello shots while fat chipmunks frolic nearby. Feeling quite giddy from the beautiful day, I happily slurped my jello in the loudest most obnoxious way I could. Mmmmmm red flavor! PO expressed relief that he didn’t have to drive all the way to Syracuse after eating 3 shots and then remembered, yes, he did have to drive back to Syracuse. Oops.
On and on to the next BN (somewhere along the way we saw CoCo’s mangina but I can no longer exactly when – all I know is we came around a corner and he was perched in a low branched tree with pants down and his man bits tucked away for all the world to [not] see) where we stopped along a wide flowing river. Apparently, this was the location where Ookie had originally spotted Baster setting trail. Ookie had been across the river at the time and, not being able to figure where trail was supposed to start, decided to just start here. I guess we should be thankful that he did not just sit there and drink all the beer. While we enjoyed our O.V.’s and discussed which house [Old Timey Hoe Down?] used to live in, we noticed a vigilant clitizen observing us from her picture window. We waved. She disappeared from view.
More trail…more trail…more beauty…happyhappy…
On-In-Behind-The-Bushes so the natives wouldn’t be offended by us. A rousing circle ensued with a guest Bobbit appearance by Wowie. Down downs were administered for road whoring, overachieving by biking to the hash, remembering to wear a dress for the occasion, shortcutting, dog owning, FRB/DFLs, and I’m sure a few I’ve forgotten…Circle was brought to a quick close when the sun set behind the trees and the wind suddenly gusted up with a cold chilling blast. It is still May in Ithaca, after all.
And may the Hash go in peace!
On-untilsundown-On,
Tasty