Well, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Two weeks ago when yours truly had the honour of Haring the SCH4 Hash, the inclement weather provided second thoughts to even the most leather-skinned Hashers. Today, however, was idyllic from a weather perspective: fifty-ish degrees (F) and sunny, hey, suitable for working on our tans! So, off I drove toward Newport in my trusty F150, top down, awash in sun screen, hair streaming and fuzzy dice dancing in the wind, California dreamin'... (Okay, okay, okay. So I don't have a convertible pick-up truck. But I did have my window down. And if I'd been wearing a short-sleeved shirt, I could've worked on my trucker tan.) But enough about my world...

Today we gathered to follow BFH's virgin trail. Vommitt Dog had been the designated on-trail adviser and assistant, but wussed out - something about the Elder game (and they got beat anyway) - so BFH accepted the challenge like a true Hasher, and was confident of his ability to lay his virgin trail alone. BFH illustrated his excitement and anticipation early in the day by breaking off his apartment door key IN THE LOCK, which killed his planned schedule for finalizing the trail, getting flour, beer, etc. Nothing like that hint of panic lingering in your gut, eh, BFH?

So, anyway, ragtop or not, I rolled up to the Newport Thriftway at promptly 2:41 (I know, that's anal). Red Hott Twatter (DH3) had arrived just prior to me, having driven from beautiful Greenville, Ohio just for the pleasure of Hashing! (Maybe it was the chance to Hash in Kentucky? ...or with the SCH4 again??) After two hours in the car, Red Hott was ready to run. We recognized the Hare's car, but the Hare was not to be found.

Soon, Tan Man rolled up in a classic pick up (I did enjoy his window sticker: "The older I get, the better I was") to which Red Hott and I had commented before recognizing Tan Man, "THAT's no Hasher". Just shows ta go ya. Tan Man expressed his determination to not get lost this week, having missed the BN and the On-On-On altogether two weeks ago.

Next to arrive was David Blumenfeld, followed by Dog-In-Drag (sans dog). Tight Grip and Spewing Reptile, fortunately in town again this weekend, were close behind. Stuff That Sucks showed up in his infamous I Hate Stuff That Sucks tee shirt, Irish Stewl arrived with his daughter (officially making this a Family Hash) and three-wheeled-offspring-unit-transporting-apparatus - whatever those things are called, and Blo Moe and Tim Tyler brought a virgin, Doug Comfort. About this time, the Hare came trotting across the car park, sporting quite a froth, happy to announce that the first half of the trail was ready for us! (Okay, since it's his virgin trail, we won't push (too hard) the Dead Hare thing.) Mrs. Cunningham and Shackle My Balls showed up promptly at 3:00 (or thereabouts), David Wuerdeman and Kathy Sain came fashionably late, but still in plenty of time to run.

After brief chalk talk, the Hare took off in his car (Auto Hash?) to set the back half of the trail (and, hopefully, leave the car at the BN). That Dead Hare thing again. Being the tame hounds that we were, we loitered about for at least ten minutes before the On-ON whistles sounded. Actually, we were waiting for Blo Moe to find a place to pee, but I won't mention that here.

Finally! On trail! Anal Vice found trail heading east on Sixth, and a check at Saratoga. From there, Anal checked south (unencumbered by the thought process - hey, the river is north!) and, of course, found a YBF. So, I played catch-up with the northbound pack as they began climbing onto the L&N bridge. Geez, we all thought, it's been a helluva long time since we saw a check! Sure enough, at the north end of the bridge: BC. So we all shuffled across the bridge again (southbound this time). The side-trail was found heading west on Third Street, and a check was found at the Southgate Bridge. The hounds scattered, with most again heading north onto the bridge - fortunately, the YBF was found much earlier than the north end of the bridge this time. Eventually, the next check was found practically under the bridge, and trail led toward Riverboat Row. Anal confused matters by climbing to the floodwall walkway and finding a YBF with trail coming from the other direction. Of course, that led to a check and some disorientation as to which direction we SHOULD have approached from. Nevertheless, persistence paid off, and Dog-In-Drag located trail along the bank of the Licking River. Nasty weeds, stickers, rocks. Shitty trail, BFH.

We stayed with the river bank until a check was found practically beneath the 4th Street Bridge. We had a good rest here, even with hounds sniffing in all directions (and even performing acrobatics on the bridge!) Hash was elusive. After a good eight to ten minutes, Dave W. found a check at the east end of the bridge on the south walkway - I don't know if we ever located HOW we were SUPPOSED to have gotten there, but at least we were again On-On. So, over the bridge we loped, past Garrard, to a barely discernable check at Greenup. Finally, logic paid off, and those of us checking north found trail and the very welcomed Beer Near in Mike Fink's car park.

While enjoying our mid-point carbohydrates and vegetables (hops and barley), the Hare (again) came trotting up, and announced that the second half of the trail had been prepared for us. How thoughtful. After a while, Shackle became impatient and began scouting around for trail leading from the BN. Those of us still enjoying ourselves accused (and convicted) Shackle of premature Hashing.

Eventually, though, all good Beer Nears must come to an end, and we found ourselves (thanks to Shackle's premature research) heading under the Suspension Bridge. A check was found on the floodwall, and another at the top of the stairs on the bridge's walkway. This time, only Dog In Drag and Anal Vice checked north (SURELY we're going to cross to Ohio at SOME point in time!), but our efforts were again rewarded with a YBF. So, on south a very short distance, then down onto 2nd Street, and a quick right onto Scott found a check at the entrance to Covington Landing. By this time, Spewing Reptile was way out in front, and had found trail leading along the river on the north side of the floodwall. This continued (with a couple checks) all the way to the next opening in the floodwall at Spazzi.

From there, the trail turned south, and another check was found at the south end of the Clay Wade Baily Bridge. (Q: Why is it called the Clay Wade Bailey Bridge? A: Those are the three guys that use it. Sorry, Cincinnati joke.) "What the hell," thought Anal Vice, as he headed north on the bridge - sure enough, after about only 100 yards, YBF. So much for the idea that we're going to Ohio - unless we're taking the interstate or a rail bridge. At that point, a temporary lapse in ability to sniff trail caused Shackle My Balls and Anal Vice to totally miss trail while checking south, so we all had another respite while waiting for somebody else to check that direction. Fortunately, the ability to sniff returned quickly, as Anal found trail heading west on Sixth Street, and a check at Philadelphia. From there, Tan Man picked up scent or hunch, and ran without missing a stride (other than to make sure the pack was still SOMEPLACE back there) straight to the On-In under I-75 by the new Brew Works.

BFH welcomed us with his opened cooler of beer, including his own damn-good (if I do say so myself) home brew. (So, BFH also stand for Beer For the Hash?) After a few minutes of milling about and standing in pigeon shit, the circle was called to order (still standing in pigeon shit - but what can you do?). The Hare, of course, drank for shitty trail. We then welcomed our virgin, Doug, and officially welcomed Tan Man to the SCH4 since he'd missed the last On-In. Red Hott then did her guest down-down (despite the questionability of her "guest" status), impressing all with her technique and ability. Shackle drank for the crime of premature Hashing at the BN, and the Hare drank for.. for.. what the hell, I have to become even more anal and start writing down this shit... for... was it setting dead trail? Damn, kiss that brain cell goodbye. Anyway, the Hare drank for some damn Hash crime.

On to namings... We recognized (and have been recognizing for some time, but have been phenomenally uncreative) that Tim Tyler is in dire need of a Hash Name. We grilled him about his work life, his home life, his social life. Doug, being a friend of the candidate, added much insight. After much discussion, though extremely amused by the new girlfriend incident (we had to pass on "Kastanza"), we focused on Tim's occupation of being in shampoo packaging for P&G and came up with (no, not "Rinse, Repeat") "'Poo Packer". So, from this point forward - or at least until a renaming - Tim shall be known as "'Poo Packer". 'Poo was flattered.

David Blumenfeld mentioned that he'll be visiting out-of-town Hash (specifically DC) - we wouldn't want him to arrive nameless. As before, there were many inquires about life, hobbies, work, nasty habits, etc. Despite the fact that David's company makes Chucky Cheese tokens, we decided (because we couldn't come up with a good name with "token" in it) to focus on David's adeptness at the ebony and ivory and arrived at "Organ Grinder". From this point forward - or at least until a renaming - David shall be known as "Organ Grinder". Organ was overwhelmed with emotion.

'Poo Packer and Organ Grinder happily finished their down-downs and were congratulated by all in the circle on their newly acquired names. The circle then closed (we were still standing in pigeon shit, and the pigeons were getting restless) and we moved On-On-In to the Brew Works.

The Brew Works. Five stories of beer! Hundreds upon hundreds of "real" beers from which to choose! A Hasher's paradise! An excellent choice for the On-On-On! ...the only drawback being that a pint of beer costs $24.95. But seriously, they don't do pitchers, and at $3.50 or $4.00 a pint, Hash Cash bought exactly one round! But I heard no one complaining, and much good beer, conversation (the place doesn't lend itself to singing, either), beer, food, and beer was had by all - including Tight Lips, who joined us just for the On-On-On (does that not merit a down-down? - I need a mismanagement ruling here!). And I must say that some of the Sin City Harriers made a much better showing this week, staying at least until after dark! Okay, so maybe it was 8:30ish.

The heartiest among us - Red Hott Twatter, BFH, and Anal Vice (yours truly) headed to Rhinos for the best (or seemingly so, anyway) draught Guinness in town (okay, Red Hott went for the "light" beer) and then, after a few pints, to the Diner for that alcohol-absorbing meatloaf. A phenomenal finale to a heckuva Hash. We need to do this again in two weeks. Irish? Schlitz? We're counting on it!

On-ON and On-OUT,
Anal Vice - On Sec SCH4