Seattle Hash House Harriers Run #401
March
24, 2001
The
fevered hashers meet at a drive in theater parking lot somewhere just south of
the Canadian border. Monica
Spewinski was the host hare. He
arrived toting a mason jar filled with a dark, foamy liquid which was
ceremoniously passed among the early bird arrivals: Bitch 'N Hoe, FC, BOT, Fish,
Micro Dick, Holly, Nip Stick, Captain Hazelwoody, Just Paola and Wheres. We noticed Crash sitting in her car searching frantically
through the yellow pages with a cell phone to her ear.
We thought her behavior was a bit unusual, but Where’s explained that,
“ blah, blah, blah, HOUSE CALL blah, blah, blah, SERVICING, blah, blah, blah
MONEY blah blah blah,” and we all understood.
Crash was left alone to let her fingers do the walking.
Monica
gave thanks to the weather gods who brought forth latecomers, Twatty Cum Naughty
(the hasher formerly known as TwatNotDotCum), 100 DB, Gallopin and Iron Lady.
The marks were identified and Bitch N Hoe performed a spring ritualistic
blessing of the hash. The pack was
ON-ON! As we headed south along the
Interurban bicycle Trail, a sidewalk gutter paralleling I-5, we realized that
reports of Monica’s scouting where greatly exaggerated…
Shouts
of ON-ON were barely audible over the rumble of the freeway.
There was cement as far as the drunken eye could see.
The pack came upon several checks and all were hopeful that the long,
polluted straight trail would veer off into something more shiggyesque, or at
least beer. But we were repeatedly
disappointed, until suddenly the FRBs turned left into a neighborhood. We abandoned air and noise pollution to be met by the
gaudiness of a white-trash neighborhood, with bambi lawn ornaments, giant
plastic butterflies attached to aluminum siding, junk cars and boats cluttering
the driveways and the smell of meatloaf cooking in the kitchen.
There must be Pabst Blue Ribbon somewhere nearby!!!
Again, disappointment as we toured the neighborhood going right then left
then left and onto a long straight road heading in the direction of the start,
but wait, could it be? We turned into an under-construction house, snuck through
the back yard and into a wooded park!!! Oh
glorious mud! Oh glorious shiggy! It would only be better if there was …. Oh
glorious Beer Check! … And all
the whining dissipated and the pack rejoiced.
The
remainder of the trail was a happy jaunt back to the start.
Dim Sum appeared out of nowhere, like a jackrabbit, as the last of the
pack was headed toward the Drive In ready to circle up.
And circle up we did as down-downs were awarded, butt dimples were
exposed, cleavage photos were taken, songs were song, trail-tales were told.
The merriment continued at the piss-up, which was held at some Pacific
Northwest microbrewery chain, where things got weird. Twatty Cum Naughty was overheard saying, “my legs are sore
and my crotch is irritated and raw”. FC
and Dim Sum left early to continue their hash dinner and a movie date.
They were off to watch a sub-titled foreign version of Celebrity Death
Match. 100DB went grocery shopping.
Crash returned to her yellow pages.
BOT was seen draining the last drops of alcohol from the empty glasses
left on the table. Gallopin was
encouraging Iron Lady to do her famous Titanic pose on a barstool.
Wheres was mumbling under his breath something about, “ I’ll show you
servicing…” All in all it was a very festive hash!