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),