San Jac Afternoon Hell
Run 963
SAN JAC AFTERNOON DELIGHT Sunday, July 13, 1997 Venue: Rest Area @ I-10 East and Thompson Rd. Hares: "ASS GRABBER", "REAR LAYER", "BOX LUNCH" By Stefanie Asin Hash Trash Reporter Houston, Tx.: Fifty-Seven hashers were brutalized last Sunday in what authorities are calling one of the "Worst" laid runs in the history of the Houston Hash House Harriers. The hounds were subjected to extreme heat with little or no shade; water that tasted like hot tea; a river that was as hot as a Russian mail-order bride; unstoppable whining; a ferry ride without life jackets; and false trails as long as Clarence Thomas’ member. "Man, that trail was way harder than the Ironman I did in New Zealand," said "Grind Slut", a long time hasher. "I ran to the San Jacinto monument and thought for a minute I was looking at |
my crotch in the mirror." The trail started in the Baytown area and those gathered anticipated a great, fairly short, well-shaded trail. And the pack was off. The first half of the trail was filled with shiggy up to the neck, said "Stop-N-Blow", one of the shortest hashers. After clawing and scratching through the shiggy and galloping through the tunnel, the hash was still happy, said "Hooter" Bill, who usually is happy, as long as he is rubbing his abdomen. The hash cooled off instantly after jumping into the refreshing waters of the San Jacinto River, with locals yelling at the hashers to warn them of the snake infestation. Ah, the waters felt like a dip into a meat locker, said "Such-a-Puss, who has water on the brain. After the dips in the glacial pools, the hash hit the road that never ended. And the revolt began. "That motherfucking three mile stretch of |
road almost ruined my sex life," said "Happy Dangler", with a face full of sweat. "My pants were tight as usual and you could have fried an egg on my genitals." Finally, the ferry. Never before had so many hash men been glad to see a ferry. The short trip over was a great chance for hashers to catch their breaths, and any fish that might have jumped high enough. Over at the other side is when the whining hit a crescendo. "I know I was the first one to get the check, as usual, but I swear I ran 17 miles checking each direction. Even I was pooped. They sunk my battleship, " said "Gas Light". The trail was over and the circle began, with the hares getting most of the brunt. The grueling, poorly laid trail taught all of the Hashers a lesson. "Never Hash with a down ski suit on," said "Geek", the wise one. As if it couldn’t get worse, "Cums Daily" got poison ivy. ***** |
