Despite the National Weather Service's promise of a glum, rainy day, the overcast morning gave way to a gloriously sunny, not uncomfortably chilly afternoon. A perfect day for a Hash! The throngs will arrive! The Hares will have repented their devious, perverse, shiggy loving ways and we'll be at the On-In in forty minutes via flat, paved trail! YES - say HALLELUJAH brother and sister Harriers! And read on, all you non-believers...

Anal Vice arrived at Don Pablo's with all of five minutes to spare until 15:00, so most of the pack had already assembled and were waiting impatiently to dole over their $5. I don't remember who accused me of usually being first to cum, but, hey, occasionally it's nice to hold out to last - or nearly so. As the roster was being attended to, the Hares pulled up in Irish's van, and alit looking rather (freshly) wet and muddy - what could that mean, what could that mean? "Beer" was offered up (Hudy Delite and, what was that stuff, Keystone?), and Anal produced a few Bass Ales from a small cooler in his truck - even Schlitz went for one of these.

Chalk talk was quickly undertaken, with Irish explaining the myriad symbols that would be used, including the ever popular but infrequently seen Titty Check and Eagle-Chicken Split. After emptying over ten pounds of flour (again, what COULD this mean?) into their carry-sacks, the Hares were off, asking for the full ten minute consideration. The pack - now fully rounded out with (in no particular order) Blo Moe, Poo Packer, Stuff That Sucks, No Balls (DH3), Red Hott Twatter (DH3), Sue "NHN" Felter, Tight Sphincter, Dog In Drag (with dog in drag), Mrs. Cunningham, and yours truly - began the time honoured tradition of loitering about and asking one another "is it time yet?" We really have to teach somebody Father Abraham.

After nine minutes, the pack began walking in the direction the Hares had departed; at ten minutes, whistles and horns sounded and we were off in earnest! ...for all of twenty seconds until the first check was encountered at the back of Harper's Station Shopping Center. Tight and Anal were quick to find a YBF along the back of the shopping center, after a couple minutes, a check whistle was heard in the pine-covered embankment separating the shopping center from a residential neighborhood. After checking toward the street - and tramping through several peoples' yards - the pack decided that the trail did not go that way, and Dog, Blo, Poo, and Anal began checking along the pine tree border. After a couple hundred yards, true trail was found (ya'd think the Hares would have used more of that flour they were lugging around), and a HUGE "X" was sited in the middle of a baseball diamond.

Dog In Drag immediately found trail leading into shiggy toward our first creek of the day. On down one bank and up the other side we loped, trying to keep from drawing blood on the various and numerous thorn clad underbrush. A Hare arrow at the top of the opposite bank pointed us across the football pitch at the Sin City Christian Academy - so off the FRB's sprinted, straight across the field and around the back of the school only to encounter - ta-da - a YBF. And then a BC! Confusion reigned supreme. "Wait a gosh darn minute", Anal Vice was heard to say, "I've seen an On Arrow since the last check, so, golly, what is it with the YBF??" Into the woods in all directions the pack scattered, across the field many of us wandered, determined to find trail or the missing check. No Balls checked around the north side of the school - and that's the last we ever saw of him... At l-o-n-g last, Stuff That Sucks found an "X" in the field that was so large that it could only have been identified from a helicopter (in fact, it could have been mistaken for a landing pad), but that didn't particularly help us finding the trail leading away from it. Aimlessly we wandered until a whistle was heard (I don't know who's) from the front of the school where an On Arrow had been laid close to the front door (how did you blow by that, No Balls?). Beyond the arrow, we once again wandered sans direction. In the past forty minutes, we'd progressed all of fifty yards, having run a mile back and forth, to and fro, on the damn football field.

The next check was eventually located on Snider road, from whence the trail turned south (on paved road!). A Titty Check was encountered at Snider and Cornell; Tight Sphincter was the first woman to arrive, and went checking straight, Sue Felter checked left, and Red Hott just had begun to check right when Tight's whistle was heard in the Columbia GM dealership's lot straight ahead. Once again, after an On Arrow, flour petered out, and the pack was left lolling around looking for trail (and by now wondering where the hell the friggin' Beer Near was).

Trail eventually led through the main part of the lot past a gaggle of curious salesmen (plaid jackets and all), across Montgomery Road, and into the cemetery (whatizzit? Rest Haven?). After a couple checks, some of us obviously took a wrong turn and encountered a "CB" from the wrong direction - from the back it looked like an arrow (albeit, an odd shaped arrow) pointing into the woods. So into the woods we tramped - of course, more aimless wandering. However, Anal found a discarded Winnie The Pooh inflatable toy, and happily presented to Poo Packer as his own personal Hashit ...which got some Hashers wondering about Wile E.

Well, after some time in the woods, we decided to have another, closer look at that "arrow". Turns out if you looked at it just right, with your head tilted at a 30 degree angle, one eye closed, standing on one foot, you could recognize the "CB". So back we checked, even though we hadn't come from that way. Dog In Drag found trail leading into an open field (future cemetery), but trail was lost by the time we approached the edge of a wood. Blo Moe (I think) eventually found trail and led us through the trees and eventually into a culvert beneath Weller Road. Trail out of the culvert led back up onto Weller, where the smarter Hashers were waiting patiently for those of us who had (tried to) traverse the culvert without getting our feet wet.

At last, at last, at last - the Beer Near was found on Grandstone at a house that is under construction. Everyone quickly drank their Keystone (and whined about or made fun of the Chek Colas - whaddizzat supposed to be? ...a Hash drink?) and called for On-On, since dusk was quickly approaching by this point.

Anal checked left from the BN and quickly found trail leading around the many loops of Grandstone (what a trashy neighborhood!), and was FRB until blowing by a check that had been obscurely hidden in the middle of the street. About the time Anal was beginning to wonder what the hell had happened to trail, On-On whistles were heard behind another construction site to the north. The Pack soon found themselves "running" across a very rough field (Prairie Dog holes?) toward a check on a pile of dirt. Stuff That Sucks got scent and found trail to the right along an Oak alley and eventually to an RG (ReGroup) at a local community center (or some such building).

With the pack (nearly) regrouped, Poo and Anal began walking the check toward Kemper Road, and eventually found trail. At Kemper, another check. Anal took left, and had almost given up on trail, when but what before his wondering eyes should appear... a little red sleigh and eight tiny reindeer? Nope! A dirty blue van and a wide grinning Hare! After calling the pack to the check where Irish was waiting, Anal appropriately gestured Irish. "Where the hell have you guys been?", Irish wanted to know. Oh, just running a marathon through creeks, mud, football fields (that one got blamed on Schlitz), and so on... With the pack fully regrouped, and having suffered unrelenting verbal abuse from Tight, Irish confessed that the On-In was five minutes straight ahead at the Silver Spring House, but the trail went to the right.

Not wanting to take the heat or be accused of being poofters, Blo Moe, Poo Packer, Dog In Drag, Stuff That Sucks, and Anal Vice took off toward true trail, while the smarter hounds caught scent of the comfort of the On-In. It took about three blocks to lose Blo and Poo, so off into the musky musk of the dusky dusk went Dog, Stuff, and Anal in search of the ever elusive trail. Down somebody's driveway and through their back yard, through an apartment complex, through another culvert (this one was easier, Dog and dog took the more difficult route up and across Montgomery Road) and on through the woods.

We encountered an Eagle-Chicken split at a culvert under Blong Road, and being thirsty, tired, thirsty, cold, thirsty, cold, and thirsty, we opted for the Chicken trail... and immediately found ourselves in ice cold water up to our knees. On up the creek we went, thinking, "If this is the Chicken trail...". Apparently, we blew by another E-C split at a culvert that looked too tiny to get through, but Irish claims to have laid trail through the pipe and out the top - any verification of this claim will be done on a warmer day during daylight hours. So up to the street - Kemper Woods Drive, I think - we went, and on up the street... only to find ANOTHER YBF. Kemper Road was visible from here, so a quick (and I do mean quick) conference yielded the unanimous decision to head to Kemper, obtain our vehicles, and drive to the On-In.

Being the last to arrive (okay, OKAY, last to cum AGAIN), the remainder of the pack - now including No Balls who was looking rather fresh and clean - was anxious to get on with the circle so that we could adjourn inside for beer, warmth, beer, food, and beer. Our Hares, or course, drank for a truly shitty trail (we'll probably never know just how shitty those Eagle trails were). Individuals were cited for crimes: Schlitz for headgear on his first down-down, Anal and Stuff for using Mother given names, No Balls for one of the most major lost-on-trails ever executed, were there others (I really need to start writing down this shit!)? I'm not sure why No Balls didn't have the pleasure of a down-down for his first Sin City Hash. Anyway, since darkness had long since enveloped us and the temperature was dropping rapidly, the circle was closed after this brief session, and we paraded inside, blowing past the Hostess Stand ("May I help you... MAY I HELP YOU!?!") in a bee-line for the bar.

Pitchers of Bass Ale were ordered all around, "good" beer at last. The circle was briefly re-opened to quiz Irish about our long-absent Hashit, Wile E. Coyote, who is apparently residing in Irish's garage. Irish was awarded a down-down and regaled appropriately - much to the amusement of the bar staff (we'd long since scared away all the real customers). Perhaps we shall once again see Wile E. on a Hash. More beer, good food, and excellent song lasted well into the evening.

The nightcap this week was truly a delight: bowling at Crossgate Lanes with Red Hott Twatter, Tight Sphincter, No Balls, and Anal Vice! Schlitz Over Tits, spouse (Mrs. Tits? - hey, if she's gonna cum to Hash events, she needs a name) and offspring unit (Baby Tits?) came by for the second game. I'm not sure about the names we assumed, but they were something like Frank, Ursula, Clara, Kevin, Elaine, and Ralph, allowing our initials on the score card to spell something special. As I recall, we are a talented bunch, with Anal winning the first game with a 124 (I think), but falling to Tight in the second game 114 to 112.

With such an athletic evening under our belts and feeling amply satisfied with ourselves, we adjourned for the evening - after all, some of us had to get up and run Seven Hills (a low-key, NONcompetitive run) Sunday morning!

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