I am still piecing together the remnants of brain mass that stored the memories of this fateful day.
It all started driving from Intercontinental Airport to the Hash on the Beltway 8. Hand Cream and I were running late (as usual) and it was raining. Actually it was pouring down rain. Hand Cream, in his infinate wisdom, explained to me that this was typical for the area and that it would not be raining once we got to the Greenspoint area. I don't know how, but he was right. The rain omnously stoped just before we got to the I-45 S exit. Later I heard that Rain Bitch had been assured by the rain gods, that it would not rain on us during the trail.
The start of the run was on the I-45 feeder a little North of the Aldine Bender exit. Just in case you are wondering there is no Aldine Bender exit if you are going south on I-45 from Beltway 8. With this new knowledge, Hand Cream and I arrived about 10 minutes after the pack had left. We quickly threw our bags in the Shag Wagon, and with a quick point by Just Tits, true trail went North.
Despite the fact that it had rained heavily on parts of the trail, I found the trail well marked. A true test of my Hashing experience. I got lucky at the first check, and unbelievable, found myself FRB. The pack in using their group wisdom had gone West into a subdivision, and, true trail was still heading North towards shiggy. Roller Balls was the first Hasher I saw to come out of subdivision.
I made it threw the shiggy pretty well, and came to bayou crossing. It looked easy enough, but did I mention it had rained real hard? Hand Cream went first. One minute he's in ankle deep water, the next, he sunk up to waist. Luckily for me, I found a shollower spot to cross and only sunk up to my chest.
Trail continued North under Beltway 8. And went Parking Garage to Parking Garge. The only time I saw flour was in the parking garages. Womb Service had joined Roller Balls in the group that was just behind Hand Cream and I.
After the series of parking garages, trail turned South. I was amazed to see us heading straight for a mall. It was true !! The trail went through the mall. Hand Cream and I got lost in the Foley's looking for true trail. Behind me I heard Seran Crap's voice, "Hey guys, are you???" I responded with a, "looking." Seran Crap stopped in the women's bra and panty section for some quick fashion advice and Hand Cream went to the boys clothing section to fondle some unsuspecting tots. I heard that Sticky Lips had also gone through the mall with her dog (Jake), and Jake went directly to the food court where he had to verify that a few patrons had received untainted food, and mark some territory. (Who needs a fire hydrant?)
Trail came out of the mall and went West. It was hard to find marks through here, but somehow Roller Balls, Ass Grabber, Hand Cream, Seran Crap and I tredged forward about two miles. Then, it happened. I can not explain with words the feeling of seeing the tunnel. I felt the twinge of a woody coming on. Ass Grabber went first, followed by Hand Cream then me. It was a long, hard, deep, wet, muddy orgasmic crawl/walk/scooch under what I think was Beltway 8. The trail was clearly marked. We were on! Having premature ejaculation syndrome, Hand cream came out of the tunnel first and went checking. I came out next, and low and behold, there was Low Profile. He had circumvented the vaginal crux and looked surprising clean. We exchanged a quick glance back at the tunnel and I went East, he went West. True trail, it turned out, went South. I paralleled the lead pack going through thick patches of shiggy. It was tough going but I knew the end had to be near. I could see through the Shiggy that Pee Pee had joined the main group. I worked my way towards the calls of ON ON and we all rejoiced in our reuniting. Well, maybe that’s not true.
I heard Grind Slut's voice in the crowd. Where did he come from I wondered, and why was he so clean… hmmmmmmmmm. I decided to wait for Hand Cream and two junkyard dogs decided to bark at me. Hand Cream finally came out of the shiggy and we ran the last 100 yards to the ON ON.
The ON ON was in a cool location, with one keg of yellow piss beer, and one keg of St. Arnolds Christmas Ale, AND no cover for the possibility of rain. Somehow, the entire pack straggled in, each with a story and some with a song. The skies were getting grey and rumors of drops were circulating. Trail Head walked about 25 feet away from the group to modestly change out of her jog bra. Burning Rubber had gone about 50 feet of the group to releive himself. Hidden by trees, I guess, Trail Head did not see Burning Rubber and what I saw was a startled Trail Head with two options; allow Burning Rubber to see her bare breasts, or turn from him and expose herself to the entire hash. Of course all the men of the Hash have immortalized Burning Rubber for his timing and choice of places to pee.
We started downdowns, and the rain started to pour down. Immediately, tarps were pulled out, and Rain Bitch was called out to stop the rain. With many Hashers under the cover of tarp Dick the Boy Wonder started everyone in song… "Singing in the Rain, Just Singing in the Rain." In Dick the Boy Wonder's haste to get under cover he abandoned the beer, so Roller balls took over and a renegade circle ensued out in the rain. There were about 20 of us out in the rain continuing downdowns. Most notably to me was Gas Light.
Believe it or not the rain stopped. And downdowns went on. Now, I don't know if it was the rain, the good beer, the good trail, or some cosmic occurrence, but, this was one of those ON ON's where there were no lame accusations.
Harry Palms had to Re-boot. His excuse for not hashing lately was that he had to satisfy his bride to be, WoW MoM WoW. Will He Peter then posed the querry to Harry Palms, "That didn't stop the rest of us from hashing!" I laughed so hard my stomache ached. Down downs went on from there.
Then came the announcement that the kegs were floating. Sadly many Hashes started to leave. Hand Cream walked over to me and said, "Small, the St Arnolds keg is still full !!!!" I quickly ran over to the keg and out came the bubbling brew!! The hares had committed the greatest act of kindness and eliminated some slackers who did not know the golden rule of hashing, DO NOT EVER LEAVE THE KEG LEST YOU HAVE PERSONALLY CHECKED EACH SPOUT TO ENSURE THE BREWED HEAVAN IS ENTIRELY EMPTIED. So the circle went on.
Rich has been hashing now for about 6 months. He is a quiet, shy man with a constant grin. Last week at the Octoberfest Hash, he won 3rd place in the chicken dance contest, and the name search was on. Chicken Shitter was suggested. Through evolution Choken Chicken came out, then Chicken Choker, and it was agreed Chicken Choker was his name… but not quite yet. Hooter Bill had a spontaneous moment of brilliance, and he said, "Lets call him Chicken Choker Da Da Da, like the song."
This was the defining moment for this hash. I have not ever seen a more joyous, spontaneous caroling erupt from any Hash I have ever attended.
Chicken Choker Da Da Da,
Chicken Choker Da Da Da,
Chicken Choker Da Da Da,
Choke, Choke, Choke, Choke!
We sang for at least 30 minutes, and finally the kegs were truly floated, so we were off to the ON ON ON.
The ON ON ON was at I-45 Icehouse. Suposedly there was tacos there. I got there so late that they were all gone. The bar was awesome, we all danced, and drank, and sang the Chicken Choker song till late at night. One of the Locals, a big burely, man named James, with lots of motorcycle tattoos, was out dancing with a hash bimbo. Halfmoon decided to go dance with them. James immediately stopped dancing and, looking down at Halfmoon, said, "Son, this aint that kind of place !!" Halfmoon escaped with his life, and bought James a beer. From then on, we all laughed and talked with James. I culminated the night with a group Photo of everyone who was still at the ON ON ON, with James and His wife as the guests of honer in the picture.
I made it home in one piece, and YES, I called in sick the next day. It was the perfect Hash. Without sounding pretentious, this Hash was destined from the start to be a contender for HASH OF THE YEAR, and I can say that it has my vote. Thank you, Hares.
ON ON,