The Cock Trot '97
April 20, 1997

Hares: Cock Smith, Cocker and Cock Ring
Run Number 951

For inexperienced hares (or Hooter Bill), the following items made this a good hash.

It was a brillant, sunny day in north Houston. For some unknown reason only 40 some hashers showed for this semi-promoted hash event. Eyebrows were raised when Famous Anus (Flytrap) arrived with Keezer the Sleezer. (And left the on on with him too? Could this be the next hash couple of the year?)

The run started in the Compact parking lot off I-45 North. Prior to the pack leaving, Cocker announced it would not be prudent to attempt to short cut. She warned one really would be better off to stay on trail. With this sagely advise, the pack headed off to the west, finding trail in the woods south of the parking lot.

Most of the pack stayed on the street to the west, paralleling the small pack in the woods. I strayed into the woods, soon joining the pack on the street. (Alas, I believe it was this small stint in the woods that gave me some dreaded poison ivy in my ankle area.) This was to be the only time I left true trail. The street hashers milled about waiting to see where the true trail pack came out. After a bit, the street pack began to fret, remembering Cocker's sage advise. I believe it was Heartache that commented, "Maybe they somehow went under the freeway and came out on the other side?" But just then On On was heard to the south and we followed trail to the bayou heading east over some precarious rocks.

We went through some fields to another bayou. It was here I made a crucial decision that turned out to be a good move. Most of the pack followed trail on the north side. I had a hunch (no, Cock Ring did not clue me in on any of this trail! Bastard!) that Blue Balls and Group Sex had the right idea by heading to the south side. I followed with a few others. To our delight we came upon trail and the other side started yelling False Trail. A few on the other side braved the clean, clear water to our side. We were not to see any of the rest of the pack until after the beer check.

We soon came upon a check and quickly found trail to the right through a neighborhood. We turned left through a store parking lot, vaulting a 5' wall (where I worried that wounded Smelly Trench would not be able to get over). We then headed left through some business parking lots coming to a check. We headed through a somewhat narrow, grassy area, which seemed to dead end into a high hurricane fence. I saw Vibra Tits turning right and found trail paralleling the fence with a 1 1/2 foot wide passageway, a wood fence on the other side. (At which point I became worried some of our heftier hashers would get stuck.) As we burst out of this, we came upon a sight for sore eyes...a beer check.

A dozen or so gathered there, swilling beer, waiting patiently for the rest of the pack. We were told this was supposed to be a turtle check. After some time, Cock Smith gave us permission to continue on our merry way, as no one at all had appeared. With no direction from the hare, we stumbled around for a bit looking for trail. We finally found it continuing through a business area, at which point we were reunited with the long, lost, hash majority. At this point I crashed Hooter Bill's day by telling him he missed the beer check.

Full Service informed me she had taken a dip in Houston's finest sewer. I reminded her she was warned to stay on trail, but obviously preferred cavorting in sewer water than the nice clear, clean water of the bayou by the false. We came to a very hard check, ran through some more business yards to the highlight of the trail....Mosquito Jungle. I heard of no hasher that escaped this part of the trail. Now, I like to be eaten as much as the next hash bimbo, but not by swarm after swarm of hungry mosquitoes! We came upon the stream with the pink ribbon warning of grave danger. By then it was massive hysteria as everyone was slapping at the winged varmints yelling for the stream crossers to hurry up. We finally emerged to the welcome sight of "Bud near".

We could hear an auctioneer, soon discovering he was at our On On. A thirsty, hot, pack was drinking whatever was readily available (as most had missed the beer/water check). There was no (or very little) beer readily available so the usual drinking hashers suddenly became attached to O'Douls, causing the O'Douls to run out before the circle. Cock Smith arrived with the canned beer just as freebie canned beer from the Ice House that neglected to order the keg ran out. Cock Ring then returned from the Fiesta in Spring Branch where he fetched an emergency keg.

I missed most of the circle because Cock Smith was gracious enough to give me cash to fetch more O'Douls. A new boot named Hilda almost got named, but didn't. There was an attempt to name Raymond, which was not consummated.

And then came the endless food. Chili cheese dogs and a massive pot of some tasty, strangely yellow, beans which I had taste-tested the previous evening. I, too, asked Chef Cock Ring the thousand dollar question, "Just what is it that makes these beans puke yellow in color?" I was told the secret ingredient is mustard. Since I knew of the upcoming beans in advance, I packed the Beano I received at Interhash and put it to good use.

We partied on into the evening at the On On On. (Take a wild guess where that was? I still can't remember the name of that place.)

All in all it was a great hash.

Your Guest Scribe,

Dickless Tracy

P.S. All ye hashers, don't forget the road trip to San Antonio for a weekend of celebrating their 500 run May 9, 10, and 11! Only $60.00! P.S.S Full Service, have fun dodging the erupting volcanoes in Oahu, Hawaii!