The first real confusion of the day got started when we hit a backcheck on the train tracks just north of I-10.  Hashers were running all over the damn place looking for trail, but no one went the most obvious way, down along the freeway to the west. On-on.

The rest of the trail basically twisted and turned through the warehouses, small shiggy patches, office parks, hot-pillow motels, and “you-buy-we-fry” seafood stores in that area of town loosely bordered by 11th street, 610, Hempstead, and Ella. It was a day for hashing nostalgia as we passed through many old hash ending places - I was really feeling my nine ( ! ) years of hashing experience as I recounted to whoever happened to be nearby the particular hares, how long the run was, what time of year, whether or not we had enough beer, etc., each time we passed a spot of ground that had been hallowed by the hash. It was almost as if I was on a hash pilgrimage. Wow. I hope I don’t turn into “Geek”.

Back to the trail. The hares did a fine job of keeping the pack together by laying many confusing checks and falses, which kept the FRB’s doing the old “front to back-back to front” which resulted in a great run workout for me (yes, I do use hash trails for training - in because the hash is a lot more fun). I found myself running with “Wee Willie Wanker” and “Pump Me Harder” when I decided to blow through a false and try to parallel along side streets. The trail crossed Ella to the south of where I was when I crossed Ella, so I guessed that the trail must be headed to White Oak Bayou and TC Jester park, where I knew a swimming pool was located somewhere (the hares had promised a swimming pool). As it turned out, I swam the bayou (much to the amazement of some neighborhood kids), but the trail finished south of where I was, back on the opposite side of the bayou. Oh well, no big deal, it was a fine hash trail and I had a damn good time running it. 

The hares had two kegs, on dark and one light. You could tell the trail had been longer than usual (or people were already tired from the holiday weekend), because many hashers were seen sitting or lying down on the grass. My day of hash nostalgia continued when hare “Silent Dick” asked me to stand in for missing Religious Advisor “Slumbag”. After a rough start, I finally regained my composure and miraculously remembered my full repertoire of down-down songs. It was like 1993 all over again, back when I was full time RA. After I had to do about 10 “shiggy-shacks” (whatever the hell that means), I remembered the rough part of being RA: you get seriously trashed. I decided at that point that I would abandon the Slutmobile and hitchhike home (later, of course). A few highlights: “Bush Snapper”, for some unknown reason, was dressed in drag; “Will-He-Peter” sang the “I Love Pussy” song, by local rap star and former Geto Boy Willie D.; the holy vessels from which poured the blessed religious nectars were, in fact, old clorox bottles that had been re-used by “Silent Dick”; and finally, someone showed their tits, but I can’t remember who it was or even if I enjoyed it or not.

After down-downs, it was over to the “Great Kahuna’s” condo clubhouse and swimming pool for kahuna-style feasting and watery debauchery. The last thing I remember was being pushed into the pool while holding a plate loaded with red beans. I left when the kegs finally ran out - I had to get some rest before the big Labor Day 5k (which started and finished at a beer warehouse - I drank a beer before the start) and pool party hosted by “Hot Poker” and “Don’t Do That” at their Baytown estate.

Epilogue: I ended up leaving the slutmobile at the Full Moon parking lot until Tuesday morning. Remember the fishing trip that I mentioned at the beginning of this story? Well, we had cleaned all of the fish right just in time so that we could make it to the hash. I was entrusted with disposal of the fisheads and assorted backbones, entrails, and assorted offal, which we had carefully placed into a plastic bag and then transported in the slutmobile. It seems that, in my delirium from lack of sleep and eagerness to hash, that I had completely forgotten to throw them away. You guessed it, they sat in my car for 2 days! I rode my bike Tuesday morning to pick up the car. The first thing I noticed was the swarm of flies. The next thing I noticed was the horrendous aroma. Finally, I noticed that the bag was seething with freshly hatched maggots. I ended up driving to a car wash, leaning the car over by parking on a curb, and hosing it out with the power sprayer. Not much fun to do with a hangover. On  -  On “Grind Slut”  By Special Assignment