Three days of nonstop rain and drizzle. It will make you stir-crazy. But there is a cure. Half Moon and C.I.A., in a Hash-like mix of generosity and inebriation at the “Friday Happy Hour” volunteered to lay a Space City trail on Saturday.
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Three days of nonstop rain and drizzle. It will make you stir-crazy. But there is a cure. Half Moon and C.I.A., in a Hash-like mix of generosity and inebriation at the “Friday Happy Hour” volunteered to lay a Space City trail on Saturday. |
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I can't exactly say that the clouds parted and the sun came shining through, but Saturday afternoon has defied the forecasters and the streets are dry. We gather at the scene of said “Happy Hour”, PJ's Sports Bar on West Gray in the Montrose. C.I.A. is a no-show. I am sure that the Hash gods will avenge his act*.
Recently, Half Moon had been accused of making a six figure salary. Just because he glides around town in an emaculate Infinity luxury car, wears the latest designer threads and takes his snap-shots with a thousand dollar digital camera. In response he says that he has left his wealth on trail for us to find in the form of two bank checks. Also he tells us the trail is laid in the pattern of a dollar sign. A worthless clue. Whether serif or sans serif is not made clear.
We fifteen to twenty Spacers are happy to be off winding our way across the Montrose neighborhood. We find our first check next to a bank building with a cryptic letter "B" near the check. I and others are mystified until Hooter Bill picks up the simple pun that HM had laid on us. A BANK CHECK!
I am matching pace with Happy Dangler, fresh back from a business trip to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. He rivets my attention with vivid descriptions of the Brazilian women and the Ipanema beach wear. The dental floss bikini has been superseded by Cepacol (mouthwash). When we refocus on hashing, the Hashers are out of sight and flour has evaporated. We circle back toward our last mark and after several blocks find Rhonda, also off trail. She claims that she has no hashing skills, but Happy Dangler assures her that she must be an excellent Hasher to find herself in the company of such illustrious and capable Hashers as Happy Dangler and Dumpster Digger.
We find trail and catch up with a couple of DFL strollers at a tricky check on Yoakum; Finger F**k and Tonka F**k. Now with three blonde bimbos in our mini-pack, we follow trail through the streetwalker district of South Main. Traffic flow becomes disabled.
A whistle blows from under the 59 overpass. It is Ass Grabber and Eat Tail Suck Head who point us to the On Home nearby. But they linger under the bridge...I don't ask why.
We circle up at an office carport in Half Moon's neighborhood. Tonka does the Religious Advisor duty. Co-tex, who has not hashed in many years is surprised by the incessant accusations and down-downs. When the accusations get really lame, Tonka appoints an enthusiastic Heartache to RA. He instantly declares the circle to be over.
Half Moon advises us to buy meat and head to the On-on-on, back at PJ's where the grill is fired up for us. Nearly twenty-four hours have passed since the “Friday Happy Hour” at PJ's when and where this all started. I am getting a "Groundhog Day" feeling about this. Will Half Moon volunteer to lay a trail tomorrow?
On on, Dumpster Digger
*addendum- C.I.A. suffered a broken arm exactly two weeks later while on trail at a Space City pub crawl.