The October 18, 1998, H4 run was held on a cool, rainy day -- great running weather, if only one could run, rather than hang around Shanghai Red's parking lot on the Ship Channel, awaiting the start. And waiting. And waiting. For the hares. We all met Pipes' and Pump Me's sons, fine hashers both, and we welcomed our Kuala Lampur hashers back from world interhash.
To compensate for their tardiness, the hares graciously made us wait only five (more) minutes before starting off in pursuit of them for this "moderate-length, urban shiggy" hash. About 35 hashers set off on trail. We ran north briefly along the channel, veered onto the main drag of Broadway, then went over the ship channel and west into a residential area. After much residential sashaying and a trip down some high-voltage lines, a check greeted the pack at a dead-end on the bayou. Hounds spread out on both sides of the banks and onto other streets. Some went up to a train trestle, crossed the swiftly flowing river and searched both sides of the far banks. All to no avail. Any thought of swimming the bayou instead of crossing the trestle was dispelled by the swirling, trash-filled, 10-mph current, but the trestle sported a sidewalk (thank you, hares).
While hashers were ranging from Louisiana to New Mexico in search of trail, several were on the trestle when a railroad high-railer came along. Most of the hashers melted back into the trees, fearing legal rebuke, but one brave soul stayed on the trestle as it rolled past. He got a down down later for his bravado.
Roller Balls had stood atop the trestle observing the goings-on of his fellow hashers, probably covering up the very obvious flour with his feet. After about 10 minutes of searching and milling about, a keener hound finally saw the flour and the pack, neatly gathered together, was off again, across the trestle and down into a maze of tracks. The flour took on a neat yellowed color in the rain; was it the refineries' emissions, brought down from the air, to lend their special touch to our run?
Trail went some distance down the tracks. The pack split up. True trail wound through some neighborhoods. A check by a strip center where one could get batteries charged or purchase Tejano tapes stalled the group briefly, until High Maintenance found flour on another set of train tracks and Thanks for the Mammaries found the second mark on a telephone pole. The trail through the maze of tracks was made interesting by the wail of train whistles, though we never saw a train on trail. Pump Me rescued a shopping cart and pushed her son in it for some distance, thus proving you can never outgrow your responsibilities as a parent.
Finally we crossed a highway on a covered bridge, went through more neighborhoods then under a high bridge for a long way to an excellent On On site near the south bank of the channel, under the 610 bridge. Showers of runoff arched down around us. Gaslight and Roller Balls sprinted for the finish, followed by Prickly Dick then Testicles. Most of the pack was in under 90 minutes.
A three-kegger On Home was truly excellent. Roller Balls led the circle, which featured Pipes and Pump Me doing a 69 Down Down for getting engaged (with their sons watching) and Half Moon and High Maintenance doing a confession Down Down for splitting up but staying civil and agreeing upon joint custody of the hash. Mitch survived a naming attempt (but deserved incarceration for his tong-wielding, nipple-piercing limbo stunt at a previous hash), and Grind Slut ate whole jalapenos and sardines wrapped in a tortilla. Gaslight was spectacular in her cyberpunk horsewoman outfit and Santa in his pale green poncho. Testicles and Thanks for the Mammaries took home the fine puppy that had followed the pack for two-thirds of the trail; he looked un-homed and needed medical care, so hopefully it wasn't dognapping. A good time was had by all.
On On!
Thanks for the Mammeries and Testicles