It was an ill fated journey.  It was only on Tuesday that Just Allen decided to respond so valiantly to the S.O.S. put out by Mechanical Bull.  What the hell were you all thinking!?  A Virgin Lay, with only two days to scout trail, being “mentored” by someone who needed a mentor his last lay!  Ah yes, but C'est la Vie.  You bastards should have known what was coming your way. 
Nonetheless we gathered at Meadow Park, prepared for rain, a bad trail, and beer.  We got two of the three, and it didn’t rain.

And despite my worries, we had a good crowd.  Matzo claimed phlegm, and didn’t run.  The indomitable Slugho brought his roller board… and nearly broke our backs.  
Just Eric came with his badass dog.  And unbeknownst to any of us, this was his 6th run.  He PURPOSEFULLY held out for untold reasons.  (Had Python not bailed on the Hash, maybe we would have known….)

Gag Order, newly named, decided that she didn’t have to hold back on the verbal bashing anymore.  She trades jabs with the best of them.

The Oh So Lovely Sandy came again.  And Kudos for this! After showing up at the red dress run and seeing exactly how disturbed we are as a group, she came back for more!  Truly a glutton.  She fits right in.
A virgin hasher to our group, coming by way of Princeton Hash, Rubber Allen didn’t run, but he did play a mean game of basketball.  I hear he had a triple double actually.  (We really need to help this guy become a better liar.)

Mr Chihuahua’s Wild Ride and Got Milf, the ambiguously gay duo, though this time in separate cars….  Maybe a fight over the color of the new blinds last night?  We can only guess.

Just Tracy, god love her, arrived bearing a hangover and tweaked hammies.  There were whispers of blow jobs under the pier again, but I’m pretty sure Matzo settled for one in the car. 

And the ever petulant FRB Dr. DoLittle rounded out the cast of miscreants.

Sing along now girls….

“Cuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg forth to carry me home.”
Had to be there.  

Anyway,  the point is the trail was poorly laid.  It was mostly my fault, I must admit.  Immediately Allen and I split up, with the intent that I would lay a YBF while he ran over the hill to the first beer check.  Well I laid a YBF, but the false trail contained NUMEROUS checks.  And so, even though they all followed false trail, after discovering that there bums would be sore the next day, they didn’t know where to go.  They back to check after check, looking for real trail, and never found it.

In fact, as Allen and I waited with Matzo at the beer check looking out for any sign that lights were beaming down over the hill, we ended up just waiting.  And waiting.  Had a beer, and continued to wait.  Perhaps they never would have found real trail had Matzo not driven back to the beginning, and pointed them in the right direction. 

To their credit, the hash hounds didn’t give up.  They very clearly could have given up, gone to Spikes, and given us the YBF in return.  So in time they made it over the hill, through barbed wire, over a fence, then into the cemetery, where as pictures will denote, we had a nice beer stop right on a crypt.  I mean, we literally put the cooler on a sign that said “Disturb not the rest of the dead.”  I hope they enjoyed our sense of humor about it.

The rest of the trail was rather uneventful.  Except Slugho and Mr. Wild Ride decided that it was an A to A run, when it wasn’t, and had to call Matzo to find out what the hell happened to everyone else.  They then DROVE to the down down circle.  Bastard children, you are the spawns of Satan, whose main sin is laziness.  (This coming from the guy who didn’t run the rest of trail, let Allen do it alone, and rode with Matzo.)
We had the Down Downs at a new spot, very near Spikes.  But I will not tell any of you where it was.  It’s a special spot, and you have to earn entry.  (Though we’ll end up having a good hash BBQ up there some time so do not despair.)

So we sang, the hares drank a lot, got bitched at, couldn’t remember songs, and learned some new ones. 

Here here for SLO-Hash #49.

That being said.  May the Hash Go in Peace.

Fred Ass-Tear
SLOH3 #49  03/02/2006