Month: June 2016

Hey guys, I have a great idea! Let’s get hashers together to drink! Then, let’s hand a piece of chalk to 1.) A brand new hasher, and 2.) Someone who needs the state police and a search team to find his own ass. Finally, tell them to set a trail to the next bar, bye, see you in a few, smooches! What could possibly go wrong?

There you have it folks, Flight #28 Trail #043 started off…is auspiciously the right word? Nah, fuck it, it started off Renegade Style (that’s quickly becoming a proper term, check the next Funk & Wagnalls). If our lazy-assed record keeper would update things, I’d have a proper list of who showed up (hi SERIALBATER, love you mean it). For now let’s just roll with saying there were 10 or so hashers who probably thought they were suicide bombers in another life when JUST ROBIN walked in with 72 virgins. COCK A NOODLE helped the cause with some virgins of his own…we think? Virgins, harem, whatever. Suddenly we had taken over North High Brewing without even trying.

So, just as soon as we’d taken over the bar we were off for chalk talk and some manner of trail. Thankfully the half-mind hares (ILLUMINUTTI and JUST ROBIN) didn’t overthink things, since we all knew where we were going anyway. On-on to Brothers Drake Meadery for more drinkalicious fun. Once again there was a general “what the fuckery” look on the poor bartender’s face. This is why we have business cards lol. There it was decided to continue the half-assed trail, switching JUST ROBIN for COCKPIT as co-hare, since he was now in his element (see below). This led to what’s been called the “NI-NOt-really” being scrawled on the sidewalk before the second on-out.

With the fading light and creeping drunkenness, having a shitty trail drawn in chalk was becoming more and more a wonderful idea. Actually, the pack did pretty well until we were distracted by a swing check that just happened to also be a staging area for the mounted police patrolling the Pride festival. That threw us off, so we played dumb and found the hares wandering around, convincing them to tell us the on-in. Of course, being Pride week, it was in the Blue Oyster Exile bar. Being hashers, we immediately set about exploring the place. As if there was a beacon, we all found the fetish shop above the bar, where things were tried on and modeled.

Since it was obvious we weren’t going anywhere, being amongst our kindred folk in kink, we waited until everyone straggled in and held circle in the beer garden. From there, who knows what happened…what happens in Exile stays in Exile.

On-on (but totally not in a gay way),
Itchy

Thus begins the tale of the Memorial Day Trail, ninth of its name, forty-first of the Renegade Era, and of the FTroop one hundred twenty-seventh, commenced on this twenty-eighth day of May, anno Domini two thousand sixteen.

Ok, so I got Game of Thrones mixed in with graduation season, I suppose. That’s still less of a clusterfuck than what was billed as a “trail” by our hares OFFICE(R) AND A GENITAL and SERIALBATER. It should have been a sign of things to come when we couldn’t even successfully assemble everyone in one place before heading out. But we are hashers, and persist we must, so eventually we all got together at Tavern 42 for some pre-lube festivities. It was a beautiful day to this point but our RA, IMMACULATE PROJECTION, was present to fuck up all that.

We waited out a brief tropical downpour, giving us an excuse to have more beer, before conducting chalk talk. Our poor waitress attempted to sort out the checks during all this, and God bless her for doing her thing…I’m quite sure no one at the bar could have seen us coming. Once the formalities were out of the way the pack was off. In search of what, who the hell knows? For a couple hares that brag about hashing in Japan in the 80s, laying trail with blue chalk during monsoon season is right up there with this when it comes to being sensible:

Actually, I apologize to Bollywood for besmirching their fine films; hell, at least those horses knew where to go (and God bless you if you watched that whole video). So yes, to recap the very beginning, trail was lost before leaving the bar parking lot. After wandering around for a few, a gracious hare stepped in and guided us under a bridge for our “brewery near”. It’s quite possible some urban outdoorsmen have brewed something under that bridge at some point, but the actual brewery was a trail treasure model train set version. Oh well, at least the beer was real. As we launched into song, another wave of rain hit, and by wave think tidal. At this point, one had to wonder if our VIRGIN ROBIN really knew what she’d gotten into, visiting a running club and instead drinking shit-tier beer under a bridge while the ark is being assembled downstream.

After the rain let up again, all pretense of finding marks was lost, although they probably weren’t there in the first place. We fumbled up to the bridge deck only to head back underneath on the other side of the river. There awaiting us was a couple bottles of liquor, of which types I sadly cannot remember. I wish I could say the same for this trail, but so it goes. The real star of the show, however, goes out to the six year old marks left for this particular shot near. Yes, gentle reader, you parsed that correctly. The hares reused six year old marks on the girder of a bridge. What this says about 1.) the cleverness of the hares, 2.) the eagerness for hashers to drink under bridges, or 3.) ODOT’s bridge inspection program, I’ll leave to your capable imagination.

After the bridge and its liquor were defeated we headed down into a ravine which the hares totally promised was dry when they set trail. Arrows never lie, hares do, and in this case there were NO GODDAMN ARROWS because, well…see above. So slosh we did through the pretend trail creek up to an embankment that the rain had rendered…well let’s just say we found it easier to go over a rusty barbed wire fence and through thorns than tackle it.

By this time Mother Nature was in full “fuck everyone in general” mode, and we were at a point where several weenies shortcut straight to the on-in. The true hashers soldiered on through muddy field and briar, finding another beer near. As is custom, DEEP SWALLOWS and SERIALBATER found the deer stand and did who knows what up there.

From there it was a lot of muddy field and some forest work to get to the prize…last year’s beer! No, seriously, BEAVE IT TO CLEAVAGE put on another impressive display…of food, you dirty wankers! Circle was conducted, beer was had, many games were played, another good show by our hosts, and many thanks for that. We were also glad to welcome our friends from Dayton H3 and FTroop…another fine showing by you is welcome anytime!

In Wankus Veritas,
Itchy Bitsy