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ReHash #86 - Montgomery Inn Boathouse Car Park 18.July.1998, 16:00 Hares: Best Blow / Poo Packer / Sucks But Doesn't Swallow Theme: First Anal(?) SCH4 Toga Hash
"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, then success is sure." Okay, being a good Hash Scribe who doesn't like to get behind on his reHashes (i.e. likes to write the reHash from the most recent Hash while it's still the most recent Hash), I finally realized that I have to get my lazy arse in gear... An extremely warm, summer afternoon greeted Anal Vice and Mystic Blow as they arrived at the Boathouse car park to find Virgins Rob and Matthew arriving about the same time. The Virgins were shy about their togas, and had left them in their vehicle... AV and MB offered no visible encouragement, as their summer togas were at the cleaners, and it was just too damn hot for the flannel togas (and Anal's traditional toga wear - the infamous Hawaiian shirt - was indisposed this day). But soon other half-minds began to arrive (or should I say "roam in" - get it? Roman, "roam in" - ohmigawd, whew, sometimes I just can't stand myself) and most - 87.22516% - were toga clad! Toga quality ranged from sagging bed sheets to professionally tailored matching outfits that included HEAD wreaths, leg strappings, and (painted) toga shoes (whatever the Romans would have called them). In order of sign-in, today's Harriers... BFH (with Wile E. in tow, and similarly clad - a true fashion statement), Anal Vice, Mystic Blow, Gashole, Gourmet, Dick The Phone, Robert NHN Conkel, Matthew NHN Bishara, Kari NHN Heerdt, Tan Man, Prick In Crotch, Famunda, Neon Knockers, Nipple Rash, Dah Gimp, Steve NHN Stephanids (sp?), Pete NHN H Sing-Loy, Easy Rider, Group Sex, Tight Sphincter, John NHN Zerhusen, John NHN Shoelbur (sp?), Linda NHN Jeanmougin (nice penmanship, or is that penwomaship?), Goodntights, Connie NHN Farmer, Ree NHN Lester, Pecker Checker, Greg NHN Patterson, Debbie NHN Cember, Greg NHN Hanfbauer, Wax Off (keeps spelling her hash name wrong, it's ‘Wax', not ‘Whacks'... unless...), When Hairy Met Chunky (not last for a change), and Johanna NHN Wessler (sp?). After an inordinate amount of time spent milling about socializing and consuming beverages of choice, the Hares finally summoned the pack to chalk talk. Beyond the usual array of Sin City marks, the Hares had composed, developed, and otherwise dreamed up an array of ‘special' marks just for the occasion. Most notably, I remember ‘PC', which stood not for Pecker Checker, but for Picture Check, which amounted to a regroup at which we would all pose in a group for Gourmet... Okay, I know there were other unique marks as well (ass swell), but damned if I can remember them right now. Sounds like a crime to me. Anyway, announcements having been made, Anal announced, "the clock is running!", and the pack observed one of the most spectacular adrenaline rushes ever, as SBDS (this being her virgin lay) took off to the west in a cloud of dust, attempting to set a land speed record. Best Blow and Poo Packer HEADed out to the east and west, respectively, at comfortable lopes. Hashercize was now led by our Songmeistress, PNC... And a rousing round of Father Abraham it was! Now, where did I put my adult beverage? Gashole had consumed all of his beer, and the pre-Hash supply was otherwise exhausted, as well (ass swell?), so he blessed the Hash with water... STILL think that should'a been a crime!! Allowing the full 9 minutes to pass (just in case Poo Packer had to resuscitate SBDS) before walking, the pack lollygagged aimlessly. What else ya gonna do? However, at precisely 10 minutes, On-OON whistles sounded, and Nipple Rash and Anal Vice HEADed off in the erection in which SBDS had so hastily departed (figuring on at least a mile of straight trail), and the remainder of the pack followed Best Blow's trail... just what the Hares desired, from a strategy perspective, I'm certain, as On-On was almost immediately called turning north across Eastern Avenue. Here we climbed Whittaker Street until we were beneath the Martin Drive exit from Columbia Parkway... where, no surprise to this Harrier, the FRBs were passing the pack in the opposite direction, yelling "Blooooow Job!!" What did you expect of Best Blow? From here, many ran back down to Eastern Avenue and turned west, most of the rest of the pack continued westward on Adams Crossing. The two contingents quickly met at the intersection of those two streets, where, lo and behold, there was a check! From here, Anal found trail down the stairs into the Yeatman's Cove car park, and then into the park itself to another check in the little amphitheatre. Since today was One Earth Party day at Sawyer Point, we KNEW trail would lead that way, and sure ‘nuff, Anal was soon - to the curious amusement of the throngs - whistling OOOON-oooonnn!! The next check was encountered at the center of the party area adjacent to the Eggleston Avenue entrance to the park.... and here's where things began to go awry - at least for one Hasher... Now, WHMC checked forward (west) and Anal checked north, toward Eggleston... and found absolutely squat. Deducing that trail, then, HAD to eventually go west (or end up in the river), AV took a westerly detour down the tracks through the back of the park and beneath the L&N bridge. Here, he found the next check, and continued west toward the public fountains - finding only one or two marks. He (you'll note that I'm writing this in third person to help mask any guilt) then circled down to the Serpentine Wall, and continued to find zero, squat, nuthin, zilch, nada. Having logged several miles (okay, yards) on this journey, and having answered at least one "hey, whacha doin'?" question, Anal then returned to the aforementioned check, figuring that by now the pack was past this point. However, no pack arrows suggested true trail, so Anal now scoured the car park behind the Montgomery Inn Conference Center, and finally ended up on 2nd Street (Pete Rose Way, if you must) beneath the L&N bridge. Here, a very helpful police officer asked, "You looking for those other runners? They went that way (pointing north along the bridge approach). Ya CAN'T miss ‘em!" Well, that last comment sealed in this half-mind that I was, without question, on the right track, and that I would soon rejoin the pack. (I suppose that this is as good a point as any to reveal what I did NOT know at the time... the pack had found the first PC - Picture Check - at the Cincinnatus statue in Sawyer Point park, and was loitering there, having photos taken, and generally entertaining the crowd. But it would be much later that I (I mean AV) discovered this important fact...) Proceeding north along the approach to the L&N bridge, I soon came to the corner of Butler and 3rd, and here found the day's first titty/boob/woman check. Again, no pack arrow. Still being thoroughly convinced that the pack was WAY aHEAD of him, Anal grumbled something about the bunch of wanks, and somebody should tell ‘em how the hell to lay a pack arrow every now and then. After some more checking, Anal found trail to the east, crossing Eggleston (did AV lay a pack arrow?? NO. Remember, he thinks the pack is aHEAD of him) toward Monastery Hill. Assuming that the Hares would treat us to a full climb, Anal charged up the hill only to find a YBF about half way up the bottom section. Rats. Running back down, he noticed a blob of flour up the ramp toward Columbia Parkway, so opted for that hill... On-One, On-Two, On-...?? Again trail ran out (and no damn pack arrows!), so AV kept moving, thinking he'd surely catch trail at the top of THIS hill. But it was not to be. Still convinced that 1) the pack was aHEAD, and B) that trail would SURELY go to Mount Adams, possible the City View, Anal decided that some ranging was now in order... So... on-up the stairs to Celestial Street, on-up Celestial to the Rookwood Pottery, on around to the top of Monastery, on-down Monaster... and voi-la!! Trail!! Anal ran backwards into a YBF at the top of the stairs from Wareham, so followed trail down the stairs to the last check which was adjacent to the pedestrian walkway over I-71... Still no pack arrows!! Damn!! Well, now deducing that trail had to come from the other direction, Anal opted for crossing I-71 - and found that it was the correct option when he encountered another woman/titty/boob check... "WHY the HELL don't these WANKS lay any PACK arrows?!?!!" So, on AV plodded, past the next PC - a really nice BFH BN memorial, through the Greyhound Station (a curious sight for a bunch of bus riders, "fresh" in from Chicago), back out the front door, and on-west toward and across Broadway Commons to (YEEEAAAAA!!) the BN at the petition booth at the corner of Broadway and Central Parkway. Having been on trail for 50 minutes, Anal drank deeply of the Adam's Ale that the Hares had so graciously provided, then opted to sign the petition for getting the Broadway Commons issue on the ballot, and finally asked, "how long ago were the other runners through here?" "Oh, about 20 minutes ago." Anal was aghast!! How the hell could he have fallen SO far behind?? "Oh, well," he decided, "at this point, might as well have a beer, then continue my run..." So, a cold Mildoggie's Best was popped from the cooler (gee, thought AV, the pack really didn't drink much beer... ya'd THINK this guy would've had a clue!), and quaffed quickly. As Anal bade farewell to the signature-gatherers, and began to run across Broadway, one gatherer shouted, "those runners said you're supposed to wait here to get a picture taken!" Suddenly a faint flash went off in AV's half-mind. Returning to the booth, Anal inquired as to the quantity of runners that had been by... "Oh, just the three of ‘em." And, with that, the true state of the situation came flashing into this dimly lit brain like a.... like a.... Well, I don't know, but AV suddenly realized that only the Hares were in front of him, and the pack was still back there trying to find trail for themselves. Well, that WOULD explain the lack of pack arrows. So, another beer was snapped open, and AV pulled up a lawn chair for the purpose of observing back toward the foot bridge over I-71. Soon enough - having been at the BN only about 20 minutes - wee, tiny Hashers materialized from the hills of Mount Adams, and began filing across that bridge. As soon as they were within what was expected ear-shot, Anal began whistling for them... And very soon, there was a joyous reunion!! Hashers and beer, that is... This pack had been on trail for about 70 minutes to this point, and their thirst showed it. But soon enough, as will happen, beer ran low, and there was an On-In out there waiting... somewhere... We accomplished the PC at the Broadway Commons "gate" - with only a few Hashers choosing to moon the gents in the county jail (and, no, TS, I don't think any of them are "reformed"), and were off.... But not for long... another PC slowed many of us in front of the Hamilton County Court House, though some had blown by, having not seen the mark. Fortunately, they laid pack arrows for us. What a concept!! Now trail wound through the streets and alleyways of beautiful downtown Sin City. The FRBs who'd escaped the Court House PC awaited the remainder of the pack at Proctor & Gamble, our next PC. Here we amused (yeah, they really looked amused) polyester clad individuals on their way to the Red's game. On-outta here, some difficulty was had finding trail... but it was finally located westbound on 5th, across Government Square, and onto Fountain Square to - guess what?! - another (and FINAL, whew!!) PC. Gourmet attempted several unique angles here... including lying down... yeah, Gourmet, that picture of your feet should be nice. On the edge of the square at 5th and Vine, a Turkey/Eagle split was encountered, and there we stood, dumbfounded. Well, not really, but this mark had NOT been explained in Chalk Talk... But.... once we realized what to do, the Eagles were off to run Eagle trail, and the Turkeys were off to... well, to do whatever it is they do. KIDDING, I'm only kidding!! I remember doing a Turkey trail once!! Anyway, after a respectable modicum of wandering about western downtown (including a "never mind" check in front of BFH's humble abode), we found ourselves in Ogden Alley, finally On-In at Ogden's Bar.... VERY much to the amusement of the CG&E workers replacing gas lines in the alley. While the pack straggled in, beers (and water) were poured, and sweaty, skanky Hashers clad in togas soaked up the liquid of their liking. Finally, with all accounted-for (including BFH, who had been even more lost than Anal Vice), the Circle (well, it wasn't really a circle... in this bar, it was more like a long skinny ill-formed rectangle) was called to order. First, of course, the Hares were summoned to the center to take their obligatory abuse... What'd everybody think of this really swell trail?? Recorded comments included, "Not enough PCs!" (How can ya ever have enough Pecker Checker... what?) "Not enough witnesses!!" "Hardly any panhandlers!" (Now there's a thought... panhandling a Hasher...) What ever. "Here's to the Hares!" Shitty trail!!
Virgins?? Do we have any Virgins? Why, yes, we do... And they were called front-and-center to answer the Virginal questions... Whatcher Mother Given Name, and who made you cum...
Visitors and First Time (non-Virgin) cummers...? Yep... in the Circle!! Hash Name and Mother Hash??
Now, in Organ Grinder's absence, Gashole and I did as well as we could with conjuring - er, I mean DISCOVERING - criminal activity... Next, Wax Off, having had observed a birth analversary just yesterday, was called forth and serenaded.
And Hash Analversaries were observed...
Now, those making toga fashion statements were honored... I'm not even gonna TRY to go into detail here, just let it suffice to say that Julius Caesar himself would be proud to dress like... well, maybe not. Anyway, may I have the envelopes, please... By now, the pizzas had been delivered (what attentive Hares, ordering pizzas, BEFORE the Circle!), so the Circle was closed (albeit temporarily), and the piranha-like feasting began... At this point a few Hashers discovered that "good" beer (Bass, Guinness) was only $1.75 a pint - and Ogden's was immediately added to the list of Hasher friendly establishments - whether Hashing or not... it's ALL good! As you may have noticed, there was a fifth Hash analversary this evening for an unnamed Hasher! Well, that event in and of itself does NOT mandate a naming, but mismanagement (and interested parties) decided to at least take up the issue. What did anyone know about Greg NHN Patterson?? Well, he kept poking himself with his safety pins while adorning his toga.... and ended up tying his toga on like a diaper... and he stated that he was feeling a "little limp" before his down-down... he's a nuke engineer... and he's eager to get named. Needless to say, some possibilities came of this combination... "Diaper Rash", "Depends", "Glowing Poker", "Nuclear Waste", "Limp Poker"... But the one that struck home and found favor in our hearts was "Li'l Poker". So, from this day forward (until some heinous event merits a change), Greg shall be known in Hashing circles as "Li'l Poker" - congratulations, LI'L POKER! And while we were talking, the topic of John NHN Zerhusen came up... He's observing his 4th Hash this evening, but is certainly deserving of a Hash Name... Hmmm... we know that he's one of the top-ranked runners in Sin City - pretty darn competitive! ...friend of Cums 2 Quick ...Great Oaks Vocational School Treasurer ...toga looks like an old paint rag ...somewhat altitudinally challenged ...besides running, gardening is a major hobby (hot peppers, tomatoes), as is home brewing ...he offered to help Dah Gimp put a piece of paper in his pocket (speaking of growing things) ...helped with Xavier Cross Country rrrrs... Yeah, several good suggestions came of these facts... "Paint Rag", "Quicker Cummer", "Sweet Banana Pecker" (or just "Sweet Banana"), "Peter Piper", "Pecker Picker", "Hot Sauce", and on and on. But finally, someone blurted out "Miracle Grow" - whether in reference to gardening or some other less noble thought - and the name stuck like syrup... So, from this day forward (until some heinous event merits a change), John shall be know in Hashing circles as "Miracle Grow" - Congratulations, MIRACLE GROW! And now, with the Circle closed for the last time this evening, the eating and drinking and general merry-making resumed and lasted into... well, not exactly into the wee hours (what ever happened to those long nights that ended up at the Diner sometime after the kitchen was closed?), but I know this Hasher was plenty tired when he finally arrived home to dream (all in unison now) of Hashes past, of Hashes present, and, especially, of Hashes future...
On-ON and ON-Out, |