Not really, but as a scribe, that is about all I can tell you about the trail. I should have known something was awry when I swam the pastoral, clear, cool Oyster Creek and noticed a bloated alligator gar floating in the murk. I figure “Blue Balls” must have swum through there at some point, and you figure anything that can kill a fish that has been swimming in these regions for roughly 500 million years has got to be pretty bad for a bunch of hashers. Maybe he should wash those things every once in a while.

But anyway, trail was a spectacular tour of scenic Sugarland. Only a few of the more adventurous hashers dared the alligator infested Oyster Creek, but they were greatly rewarded; not only by mud that was roughly nipple deep, but also huge clouds of swamp gas, a large mass of floating green slime (quite palatable I might add) and the aforementioned bloated alligator gar were all wonderful additions by a thoughtful pair of hares. Also, not only did the brave hashers get to experience the wonders of nature, but were also so fucking far behind when they emerged from the creek that the walkers were 15 miles in front of them.

Say La Vee – sometimes it is the getting there that is important, not just the end.

The only notable thing I can point out about trail was that “Saran Crap” ran in front of a moving semi and rescued a small child from being crushed under the wheels. He then demanded sexual favors from the tot’s mother, at which point she threw herself under the wheels of a passing train. As did an elderly woman, a dog, a postal carrier, a priest (with three choir boys) and a bag lady. A sheep was in the vicinity, but couldn’t reach the train and managed to disembowel itself with it’s teeth.

Oh, yes there was another tunnel on trail, the ubiquitous storm water sewer. This trails tunnels didn’t quite go on for three hours as the last one did, but we did get to crawl out of a manhole cover and perplex quite a few local citizens. Supposedly there was a false trail somewhere in the tunnel, but it was never observed by anyone reputable enough to believe, so the pack milled about aimlessly until “Saran Crap” showed up. At which point, since there wasn’t a train, they basically got the hell outta Dodge.

“Blue Balls” was then observed slinking through the neighborhood in his car, and as a pack of troubled, lost, hasher descended on him, he was heard to yell “You fucking morons, the trail is that way!” and he sped off in the other direction with a happy smile on his face and a beer in his hand.

Turns out the bastard was telling the truth, and the On-Home was right around the corner at his house.

The On-Home had all of the amenities you would expect in a hash, beer, beer, beer, chips, beer, beer, and beer. (Everyone was happy) The hares even had a pool specially installed prior to our arrival, so that we could bath our cares away.

The circle was a merry event, as always. People drank, people farted, Bill rubbed his tummy, and it was good. A 69 down-down was given to “Zit Sucker” and “Such A Puss”, who finally decided to stop living in sin and get engaged. “Will-He-Peter” did a down-down for wearing a confederate flag on his ass. I don’t remember much about the circle, I was too busy slamming beer.

The hares even provided for our food needs, and cooked up some rice concoction that was pretty tasty. About the time we finish off the rice, “Can’t Hound” walked up, only 5 hours after the start, and asked if he could please have a glass of water. He said he was looking for a bunch of people that he had been running with about 4 hours ago, but couldn’t seem to find them. So we told him we were out of water and told him that they had gone south and to hit the streets. I don’t know if he ever caught on, but he stayed around, so either he figured it out, or was too tired to leave.

All in all, a good trail; long enough to be tiring, but not too long to be exhausting, good use of terrain, dead fish, a pool, food and beer. What more could you ask for?