Revisiting
Lake Houston Shiggy Hash
Sun.,
Nov. 8, 1998, Run # 1035
Hares:
Grind Slut & Gaslyte
I began the journey to the Hash frantically trying
to figure out if
Will Clayton Pkwy was north or south of Beltway 8
– the road I was
traveling.
Not to worry because at the critical decision point Finger
F*ck pulled up next to me and since she looked
like she knew the way I
just followed.
And followed. And followed. Just when I was starting
to think that she was really headed towards a
different kind of
rendezvouz P.P pulled by in his big red truck –
Make what you will out
of that image?
So I followed both of them. And
followed. And
followed.
Just when I thought that no hash could be worth this drive
I saw the gathering of many hashers at the end of
the road and
rejoiced.
At least until GasLight told us
that 80% of her body was
covered in insect bites from laying trail and we’d
all better wear a
lot of clothes.
Hashers?? Clothes?? Anyway I donned a T-shirt,
large quantities of insect repellent and we were
off.
As promised we headed immediately into the
Shiggy. No worries about
trying to keep feet dry since there wasn’t a patch
of dry ground in
sight so slog into the mud we went. For reasons involving alcohol,
fatigue, and kicking balls very hard Smelly
Trench, High Maintenance
and I soon lost track of the pack and were on
trail alone. Yes, you
lusty hash men 3 harriettes in the woods alone
surrounded by limitless
quantities of mud – Don’t you wish you’d
known?? Anyway we trudged
along the well marked trail with no sound of On On
or whistle to guide
us until we heard the sounds of late cumming
hashers behind us. First
to catch up was Saran Crap whining about tired
legs and bicycles –
what was he doing with that bicycle?? The 4 of us pressed on until we
reached a railroad track and lost trail. After searching for a bit
the rest of the pack caughtup. Eventually someone spotted a speck of
flour on the track and we began following the
track. And
following….And following…The boredom was
intense. We talked about the
likelihood of survival if a train hit us, and why
Fed Ex was carrying
a bicycle through the mud, and why we were walking down a railroad
track for what seemed an eternity when we could
have been watching
football.
Finally a blessed check. Some
hashers wanted to check on
the track.
Others of us said that if the trail continued on the track
we would simply make our own trail – we didn’t
care where it went.
Finally we knew why FedEx was carrying that
bike. To find trail, of
course.
Off he went and in no time flat we heard On On and we were
off again.
From there it was a nice tramp through the forest to a
concrete bridge and On Home.
We now know how to limit the length of the circle
– run out of beer.
Any way before that horrendous moment arrived a
jovial circle was in
progress with the highlight a potential naming by
Role Model. She
began by describing a new boot’s bodily injury and
then somehow was
transported to another universe and started
talking about train
tracks.
The naming was lame but the metaphysical implications were
profound.
Once the hares realized that their lives might be in
danger from thirsty hashers in search of beer they
quickly offered the
remaining available cash to be spent at a local
establishment. They
were almost trampled to death anyway in the mad rush of hashers to
their cars.
Hooter Bill, wise in the ways of places to get
drunk, suggested a
local establishment called the Trail Riders Inn at
the corner of
Beltway 8 and Atascasita Road. I give the address because it had all
the things hashers love – cheap beer, pool tables,
jukebox, and the
place all to ourselves. Check it out if you are up that way. The
beer was provided by the hares, Jiffy Lube showed up with a bag of junk
food, and the fun began. Group Sex showed us all how to win at pool
and the few locals that were there wanted to watch
reruns of McCloud
instead of Monday Night Football. At that point I now knew that I had
located that long lost legendary place – The
Sticks.
I left with the party in full swing since I had to
travel through
multiple time zones to get home but it was worth
it – Great Shiggy,
Fun and Drink.
Thanks to the Hares and my fellow hashers for another
great time.
On On
Red Snapper