Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|The Lasagna Lipstick Hash
(over 9 years ago)
Date: 2009-07-29 Wed
Time: 6:30 HST (pack away by 7:30 or so)
Hares: Time of the Munch, Splitz, Shawshank (Bag Car)
Start: Mary Anns in Cleveland Circle
Beer Check: The same park on Summit Ave where we always do beer checks.
Circle: Ringer Park (at a large pie chart painted on the tarmac -
great for circle)
On-In: The Silhouette Lounge (where else??)
The pack: I counted 28, but more may have arrived later: Sugar Plum Fairy, The Butler Did It, Friar F**K, Stick it to the Bros, Catheter the Great, Necrophiliac Jack, Jamaican me Cum, Goes down on Bouys, Skibobbit, Taj my Hole, Grease my Monkeys Nuts, Better late than Pregnant, Hareclub, 5 inch Penalty, High Anus, Backdoor Factory, Bed Over Mommy, G re - (that's what my notes say), An Inconvenient Poop, Second Cumming (RA), Just Lloyd, Just Dan, Just Greg, Just Ellie, Immaculate, Bend over Mommy, Sketchy HO, Virgin Bridget.
Hashers gathered at Mary Anns for a few cheap beers. Talk was about Bouys moving adventures, concerts (Depeche mode coming up), and other topics. Mary Anns proudly displays it's "Worst of Boston" plaque. Unusual for a Boston hash - there was no dress code or theme today. Eventually Shawshank showed up and we all went outside for bag car/ chalk talk.
Virgin Bridget was our only virgin, and was introduced to what seemed to be every mark ever used in Boston. We did introductions and were off.
There seemed to be no trail anywhere near the bar. That has never stopped hashers though and everyone followed sheep-like in one direction and then the other. Finally we found trail. There was not much to remember about the trail until we got to the Boob Check. SPF blew through this one, but all the guys hung out. Finally Jamaican showed her tits and we were off. We were near Summit Ave - guess which way trail went?
The beer check was at the park we always use on Summit Ave. Some of you may remember it as the place where Anal Avenger and Deposits got married. There was a compass on the ground (large circles seem to be a theme) and people made the 6 and 9 into a 69.
I started with the runners and ended with the walkers. The map said that the on-in was at the Swillo (where ELSE would the on-in be, given that we were within a 2 mile radius). We got there - some hashers were already there. We had beer. We had food (well - popcorn). Why leave. After a few beers we went up to Ringer Park. Circle was being held at a painted pie-chart. Some hashers came in with large stuffed fishes.
We had one visitor who sang Hog Calling Time in Nebraska
Backsliders: Grease my Monkeys, Nuts, 5 inch Penalty, Shawshank
False accent: Jamaican me Cum
Virgins: Virgin Bridget was our one virgin. Jamaican me Cum made her cum. Bridgets favorite sexual position is the Cowboy (we had a demo) and she fakes an orgasm by laughing.
FRBs: Stick it to the Bros, Backdoor Factory.
Late Cummer: Time of the Munch, Shawshank,
Hash Crash: Just Lloyd - Blood on trail
Blew through Tit check: SPF who sang "I love my girl"
Racist Behavior: Immaculate.
Necropheliac Jack drank out of SPF's shoes for no reason (popular vote)
Hares got a downdown for sending the walkers to the on-after.
Anniversary: Better Late than Pregnant, Jamaican me Cum (Self).
Leaving us: SATRAC - she's going to DC.
We did swing low and went to (or back to) the Swillo where we had (guess what) Lasagna and more beer.
Friar posted pix of this event on Hashspace.
|The Wang and 2C Trust Me Hash
(over 9 years ago)
Hares/Organ-izers: Wang Chunks and Second Cumming
Religious Advisor: Krusty the Meat Miser
Assistant Transportation Fluffers: Stick It To The Bros, Floppy D*ck, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy
Scribe: Jolly GREEN Vagina
Pack: Fire In The Hole, You Oughtta Blow, Super Teflon Dong, Anal Beads, Pubic Service Announcement, Schindler’s Fist, Drippy Spigot, I Eat Teabags, Laa Laa, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Peppermint P*ssy, Stretch P*ssy, Filthy Rhode Island Scum: Fuwangi Boner, Swamp Whine, Anal Crabs
In retrospect, I suppose should have been worried when Second Cumming started talking about a Trust Me Hash. Not because a Trust Me Hash is a bad thing, but because of he the way he pitched it, which sort of sounded like he was trying to convince everybody that he had a ton of really great candy in the back of his van.
In any event, I, like about two dozen other hashers, were dumb enough to get in the back of the metaphorical van and showed up at An Tua Nua early Saturday afternoon. STD was, of course, already drunk, and I don’t believe he left that state at any point during the weekend. In fact, I have credible reports that he didn’t get down to a BAC of .08 until late Tuesday night.
After some pre-lube beer and pre-lube food, the hashers piled into a half dozen volunteer cars, including Wang Chunks’ SUV which has a carbon footprint roughly equal to all of the cow flatulence in Brazil. Then we drove. We drove so far away. We drove both night and day.
Sorry about that. I couldn't resist. We didn’t drive that long. It was only like an hour or an hour and a half, depending on whether your car stopped for a six pack of Burger King Gristle Shots or not. (Mmmm, mostly sphincter-free mystery meat grilled long enough to kill almost all the E. coli, then covered with a layer of warm cheese product, sprinkled with tasty pickle puree and delicious single serving condiments, and finally wrapped in tender whitebread buns. Heavenly.)
Eventually, we arrived in Newport, at a super-classy Econo Lodge, which only smelled a little bit like Indian food. While we unloaded the vehicles, 2C and Wang went downstairs to convince the management that we wouldn’t break things or light things on fire. Immediately after dropping our stuff in the rooms, Teabags rounded up a couple people and started playing Frisbee in the hall, while STD went out to the balcony and burned a decent quantity of vegetable matter.
After a few minutes, the hashers piled into a three cars and started driving to pre-lube #2. Out of the 20 or so hashers, about twelve decided to get into 2C’s vehicle. I’m told that the highlights of that particular ride mostly revolved around STD being on, under, or intertwined with various harriettes. The highlights of the ride for the other vehicles were trying to find which of the 69 red Jeep Cherokees on the road was the red Jeep Cherokee that we were supposed to be following. And we also got to see Laa Laa press ham. Whoever owns the car that he was in, I hope that by now you’ve cleaned his skidmarks off the rear window.
Pre-lube number #2 was a place called Cappy’s, which had a large banner announcing that they “Proudly Serve Narragansett Lite.” I want you to consider that for a moment. "Proudly serve" right next to "Narragansett Lite." All done? Okay, moving on.
At Cappy's, we also picked up our Rhode Island contingent of Fuwangi Boner, Anal Crabs, and Swamp Whine here. Then we drank. I think we spent a pretty long time drinking, because by the time we left, the golf match on television was beginning to seem interesting to me. Also, my trail notes from this point on are almost completely illegible.
Wang split his time at the pre-lube looking either outside at the sky, which was filled with extremely dark, threatening clouds, or at the television, upon which a weather guy was pointing at a flashing red storm front with a caption that said “HERE BE TORNADOES” on it. It was just slightly south of us.
“Only a 20% chance of rain,” Wang assured the pack.
At around 4:30, hares were away. Around 4:50, the pack went out to chalk talk, where we drew penises on the ground, much to the amusement of parents with young children passing by.
Almost immediately upon being on-out, Teabags did a faceplant while running through a public park. Not to be outdone, STD performed his own faceplant immediately after. Well, actually, he was sort of outdone, because Teabags’ flop was a lot better. Then we hit a song check. I have no idea what we sang.
Back on trail, STD bummed a half-drunk Red Bull off a couple of townies, which he downed while running. Did I mention STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops? No? Okay, well, STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops. Then we ran through some sort of nature preserve thing with huge, old, stately oak trees which were great for ducking behind and pissing on.
On the other side of the nature preserve was a rocky shore, where we had our first Beer Check, and frolicked in the ocean mist. Or sat there and sweated and drank beer in the ocean mist. I think most of us chose option B.
Following the Beer Check, trail followed a walkway along the shore for a bit, then crossed a road, and a muddy culvert for storm runoff. Besides the storm runoff, the culvert also held the second largest snapping turtle that I have ever seen. The shell was something like two feet long. The head was about four inches across. It could have swallowed a tennis ball whole.
And the hares had marked it with flour. Right on the top of the f*cking shell. F*ckers.
At this point, the pack proceeded in a couple different ways. Laa Laa went upstream to where the culvert was shallower and the water was turtle-free and crossed there. I followed the culvert on the near side until I hit trail again. And a bunch of idiots crossed the culvert, many of whom didn’t even notice that they were splashing around right next to something that could have easily taken a chunk the size of a filet mignon out of their calf.
Surprisingly, we had no casualties.
After our encounter with Newport’s giant mutant snapping turtle, trail followed the beach and then took a long windy path through residential summer houses and stuff. Then we hit our second Beer Check, at another rocky shoreline cleverly hidden behind a few acres of poison ivy. Despite the rocky shoreline, heavy surf, and possible riptides STD and Teabags went swimming.
Surprisingly, we had no casualties.
Trail ended there, and we piled into various cars to go to a microbrewery to have our On-In, which is seriously the best thing that has ever happened in the history of the Hash. It was so cool that even Latte showed visible emotion, and said things which ended in exclamation points. Apparently 2C knows the owner, although I suspect that having the Hash there for two hours might have strained their friendship. I mean, if someone I knew brought Laa Laa to my company, I’d probably never speak to them again.
Anyway, after some beers, Circle started. I have something in my notes about Krusty wearing tighty whiteys. I don’t know how I came by that information, but I wrote it down, so it must be true. After whatever it was that involved Krusty’s undergarments, there was a bald guy down-down, followed by a C*mbridge virgin down-down, and a Smaht Kids down-down. Then Drippy and Stick It had a same shirt down-down, and apparently there was some trash talk in the circle, because they had a bukakke fight on the way out.
Next, STD and Teabags got a Darwin Award down-down, for being dumbasses and swimming under conditions that routinely claim the lives of drunken morons. Then we awarded a down-down to Brent, our server, and he acquitted himself well. Then came Blood On Trail, which was quite a list, and included also SATRAC, by reason of menstruation.
Then I and Laa Laa were called in for same shoes. Same make and model and everything, and yes, this was a drinking out of the shoe down-down. Sort of. I’m not ashamed that I chose to wear the beer rather than drink it, on the basis that I know where my shoes have been, and that getting a reputation as a wuss was preferable to … oh, for example … dysentery. I got Old MacDonalded anyway.
Finally, Krusty brought out the condom. Brent, our server, was given the choice of who would drink out of it. He chose wisely.
So after SATRAC did the condom down-down, we closed Circle with “Today is Monday,” and then had burgers and hot dogs (for which we offer many thanks to Fuwangi, who slaved over a hot grill for us). And we also had more beer.
Oh, and just about then, it finally started to rain. I guess it really was a 20% chance after all.
Overheard on Trail:
I don’t usually write up things that happened after Circle, but I’ll pass on a few gems from later that evening:
(over 9 years ago)
Hares: I Licked Butts (virgin lay) & Beat by a Girl (hash drunk, 2008-2009)
Scribe: Friar Fuck
Bag Car: Stretched P*ssy & I Eat Teabags
Pre-lube make-up artist extraordinaire: Jamaican me 'cum
Promises: There will be all things ZOMBIE such as...lots of ICE-COLD sh*tty beer...tight, short trail with 3 (that's right, i say three) beer checks (w/ZOMBIE snacks)...very light shiggy (about 2 on the scale; no fence jumping)...outdoor circle (w/delicious ZOMBIE food)...very awesome ON-AFTER ZOMBIE hang out
Finally the truth can be told...
Beer check 1: in Forest Hills Cemetery by some sort of spirit catcher thing.
Beer check 2: in Forest Hills Cemetery by a set of pigeon holes.
Beer check 3: who knows?
On-In: A roofless hall-like structure in Franklin Park
The Pack: This time I tried an experiment for taking attendance - I started to pass my list around so people could check their names off. Spunk took the list and walked around checking people off, but people took off before she got to everyone. If you were standing to my left, see me after class.
Crucifux (RA), Drippy Spigot, Dribbles, Dirty little Sanchez, Friar F*ck, Gay Pride, GAP (didn't he leave already), Goes down on Bouys, Goes down Syndrome, High An*s, Hoover mc Suck n F*ck, I eat cum, I eat Tea Bags, Jamaican me Cum, Jizz Mopper, Just Ellie, Just Meg, Just Tom, Las Laa, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice Tits, Pat my Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Placentos the Fresh Maker, SATRAC, Shorn Scrotum, Stinky D, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Sugar Plum Fairy, Super Teflon Dong, Sketchy Ho, Vagatarian, Time of the Munch, Just Bert, Virgin Ellen, Virgin Ryan, Virgin Melissa, Virgin Kelly, Spoonfull of Semin. Just Dave.
I arrived (running late as usual) just around 7pm, and the hares were in no hurry to leave. People were getting drizzled with strawberry syrup, and having "one more beer". So much for HARES AWAY AT 7.
Eventually we did circle up. With barely enough time to take attendance and introduce the virgins, we were off! I was with the Walkers, so we had a somewhat direct route. It didn't take long to get to a big iron gate and we were now in Forest Hills Cemetery. The map was not very helpful at this point, so we followed trail or rather followed all the noise as the pack found trail. There were quite a few circle jerks, clambering up banks, etc and eventually we got to the first beer check.
Forest Hills has a lot of quirky art installations, and the beer check was next to some sort of canopy made of wire mesh. This was conveniently hidden in the trees. The trail meandered through the park after this, and we got to the second beercheck near a sunken maze with a set of cubby holes at the end. The sun was setting and it was getting late. The rest of the trail meandered through the park, but we saw green lights on the road. Park security was following us around, and it was time for a little haphazard running. I actually didn't see the cop cars, but we did meet two guys walking dogs who told us that we were probably locked in and should look for a hole in the fence by the side of the park. For a few us, trail basically ended at that point. One hasher (just Dave) got a ride to the entrance in the back of a security car. The hash is not really welcome in Forest Hills.
We made our way to the side of the park. A woman in a house outside the park directed us to the hole in the fence (it is a local landmark) and we were soon on the other side of the cemetery - on some unknown street with no marks in sight. Here's where the great comedy of errors started to happen. We were well equipped - a map, several cell phones, even a GPS unit. Here's what happened:
Finally we get to a large open-air hall which is the on-in. It's a bit spooky, and circle is already under way. I missed "comments on the run" and can only imagine what some of them were.
There was pizza, beer, a great view of Franklin Park from the windows. When the beer was gone, we started to drift away. For those on the MisManagement list, this trail started a great discussion. I think that this may be the trail that gets nominated for both Best and Worst Trail of the Year.
|The Pajama Hash
(over 9 years ago)
"If only you're legs were spread as wide as your marks, and your crotch was as warm as your beer" -Headmaster
I really can't do any better than that for a description of the run, but there are certain conventions to be followed when scribing, so here goes.
Theme: Pajama run (everyone wear pj's)
Hares: Target Practice, Shawsk*nk
When: Wednesday, June 3rd, 6:30 HST
Where: 973 Commonwealth (used to be T's).
Promises: Beer and pajama-appropriate mixed drink alternatives (I.E.
warm cheap beer)
Scribe: Friar Fuck
Beer Check 1: Some park in Brookline which wasn't shown on the walkers map.
Beer Check 2: The rose garden in the fens across the river from the Museum of Fine Arts
On In: Parking garage near Ruggles T station
On after: Punters Pub (where else)
Pack: An Inconvenient Poop, Beat by a Girl, Lunchmeat, Better late than Pregnant, Bisexal Bondage Bitch, Crucifux, Catheter the Great, General Ass Pounder, Goes down on Bouys, Goes down syndrome, Hare club for Queers, Friar F*ck, Headmaster, I eat Tea Bags, Jamaican me Cum, Jolly Green Vagine (arrived after run), Just Kristen => Vagitarian, Dirty litte Sanches, Just Elle, Gay Pride, Shorn Scrotum, Just Doug, Fck her in the A*s, Dude wheres my Virginity, Scrambled Porn, Spits, Necrophiliac Jack, wooden eye, Pat my Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, SATRAC, Sugar Plum Fairy, Super Teflon Dong, Taj my Hole, Virgin Ted, Virgin Ryan, Virgin Kara, Virgin Andy, Virgin Sophie, Virgin Melissa, Virgin Becky, Virgin Jack, Virgin Niomi (arrived after run), and many others whose names I didn't catch. There were about 46 hashers at the on-in.
People took the PJ theme seriously, and as I was getting out of my car, I met a young woman wearing space PJs who had arrived the same time I had (I didn't catch your name - sorry). The bar was full of PJ clad folks, including some men (Super Teflon Dong and I eat Tea Bags) who were wearing night dresses. If you felt funny walking around in PJs, imagine how they felt. Anyway the bar was spacious, PBR tall cans were $2.50, and the pack showed very little desire to leave (except for space PJs who felt hot). Finally it was time to call Bag Car and Circle. This was a ways up the road - past racks and racks of clothes. Circles on the sidewalk (even the wide sidewalks here) are a bit inconvenient - bemused passers by constantly had to be let through. Anyway the hares explained the marks, the virgins were lined up in the center, and everybody says their names faster than I can write. The walkers (I.E. Friar and Pat my Fly) were given maps. I'd normally tag along (unless the hares promised water crossings) but I need to talk to PMF.
Following a map is relatively easy, and we'd see hashers darting in and out. Occasionally we'd find a mark or two. It was getting dark.We were heading to the fenway area, towards the museum, where there was supposedly a beer check. There were no marks. Me and PMF explored every path in the area. I suggested that the beer check must be in the Victory Gardens, where it always is and we headed vaguely in that direction. I called the hotline "some park in brookline" That's miles away! Wait - people running with bags - THE HARES. We had gotten in front of the hares by bypassing a beer check. It was fairly easy to follow the trail - while on pavement. It was growing dark, and for a while I was following sounds. We arrived at the beer check which was in the rose garden. It was a beer check in name only - there was no beer. What to do? Mill about. STD and Tea bags disappeared in to the bushes... and came back holding long cat-tail reeds. There were several games that can be played with reeds - limbo, sword fight, and reaching into the crowd and tickling people with the heads of the cat-tails. The warm beer finally arrived - I personally don't mind warm good beer. In fact I've been on winter hashes where a warm cheap beer is most welcome as a hand-warmer. Here it was a little less welcome, but it's what we had. Preggers is still looking for people to join the trip to Scotland, which is sounding like a trust-me hash. If I wasn't living a trust-me life right now I'd be interested. Anyway - the police showed up. We're getting good at this. Drop the beer (in the box), and without making any sudden movements drift away. Luckily someone explained that we were a running club taking a break. Anyway it was the end of the beer check. Back to the map.
I'd been to the parking garage near Ruggles before for an on-in, so I immediately knew where to go. PMF assumed that every hash ended at a bar. It's good to have on-ins not at bars as it adds variety to trails, but we're running out of new parks and parking garages too. We took the elevator up. Most hashers will push all the buttons to annoy people taking the elevator, but nobody bothered to do this. We were on the roof deck, and the view was spectacular. I took several pictures. Hashers were rolling up in waves .. and there was no beer. There were people driving away from the parking lot, all of them seem to be having long cell phone conversations when they got to their car. Presumably they were calling security. Finally the bag car came up, and hashers swarmed the bag car like star-struck teenagers swarming around the Beatles limo. There were two 30 packs in the car. In about 1 minute there was one thirty pack in the car. Nothing to do but CIRCLE UP!
We circled up under the roof, and the acoustics were worse than in theold Boston Garden. Sorry if I didn't catch everything. Crucifux was our RA.
Comments on trail: "Too many cops", "too few marks", "if only you're legs were spread as wide as your marks, and your crotch was as warm as your beer", etc. The hares sang "Follow the Hares" (My girlfriend/boyfriends a ...). We then demented the Virgins:
Virgin Ryan was brought by GAP
Virgin Kara was brought by Jamaican me Cum
Virgin Andy made himself cum but Friar was his sponsor. His favorite animal is a pig.
Virgin Sophie was brought by Lunchmeat
Virgin Ted was brought by Just Sara
Virgin Jack made himself cum (second time)
Virgin Naiomi(sp?) showed up late and got a down-down.
The sponsors did demo downdowns and then the virgins did downdowns. At this point, a man in a blue shirt and tiedown-weave blue tie came out. The only men who wear that sort of tie are store managers and security guards. Either way, we needed to wind things down. Tiedown- weave stayed around for the entire rest of circle. He even didn't seem to mind (or didn't notice) the beer poured into cups. It was time for announcements and swing low.
Friar took the now empty 30 pack box and wore it as a hat. I could see everything except what was directly in front of me. This was fine for the elevator, but a bit of a hazard on the road.
The on-after was at Punters. Hash-cash paid for a number of bucket sized pitchers, and we had the supermarket donuts and bagel store bagels we were supposed to have at the on-in. One of the patrons asked me how many cents were in a dime. A glom* formed around Virgin Naiomi. Eventually we got pizza. By the time the pizza arrived it was very late - almost midnight. I lost my pen at some point, so that's the end of my notes. I really don't understand how working folks manage to do Wednesday hashes and go to work the next day. I ended up taking the (possibly last) T to Allston Village with GAP and Peppermint, and back-tracking to T Anthonys to get some coffee. I got a lot of favorable comments on my outfit.
|GAP’s last trail!
(over 9 years ago)
Hares: GAP, Immaculate ErectionPrelube: Courtside
Bag Car: Friar F*ck
RA: Velvet Pelvis
Pack: Anal Beads, Bisexual Bondage Bitch, Better Late than Pregnant, Catheter the Great, Certified Public An*s, Cum is Kosher, Dude Where’s my Virginity, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Fire in the Hole, Friar F*ck, General A*s Pounder (GAP), Goes Down on Buoys, Headmaster, Hare Club for Queers, Hoover McSuck and F*ck, I Eat Teabags, Immaculate Erection, an Inconvenient Poop, Jamaican Me Cum, Jizz Mopper, Just Vicki with an “i”, a lot of other “Justs” whose names I don’t know yet—please try harder to be memorable next time. Making a fool of yourself is memorable. Moaning Lisa, My Chemical Homance, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice Tits, Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Pubic Service Announcement, Queerleader, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy (SATRAC), Shorn Scrotum, Ski Bobbit, Snatchsquatch, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Stinky Digit, Sucks Hard for the Money, Sugar Plum Fairy, Taj My Hole, Velvet Pelvis, Virgin Cara, Virgin Dan, Wooden Eye F*ck Her in the A*s, You Oughtta Blow, about 5 others who I didn’t see or whose names I don’t know.
A hardy pack of harriers and harriettes (I’d guess about 60) flocked to East Cambridge to experience what could be the last GAP trail ever (unless of course he comes back from Baltimore to make some cameo appearances, hint hint). It was in many ways a sad day, but in most ways a glorious day, as it was evident that GAP’s ability to get people lost in all parts of Boston has touched so many.
After downing the requisite beers and shots at the prelube, the pack made its way to a parking lot across the street, where Velvet took charge of the chalk talk. We were informed that the eagle trail would be “extremely wet, and life jackets would be provided.” Speculation ensued about where this swimming might occur, with most thinking it would be a in a dirty river or perhaps a quick jump in the harbor. For most it would be neither, emphasis on the “most.” **
Trail led away from the bar, through a park, and then into some sort of secret forest village. Hard to say if it was just a trash dump or living quarters for the unlucky. We were lucky to get out of there rather quickly. Next we scattered about a sand pit/train yard, tricked by a CB3 written on a plow, until we found trail once more. Then it was through the streets of Boston until we got to the climax of the evening. Drum roll, please…
The climax of the evening was marked by a BN and true trail mark on the dock at one side of the harbor, right across from the USS Constitution, pointing across to the other side. We could see GAP, Immaculate Erection, and a few others, waving to us from the shore. Buoys estimated that it was a 20 minute swim. Most folks weren’t even considering it and left to go the long/land way around the edge of the harbor. Then there was a group of us that was considering it. First order of business was to figure out how cold the water was. Buoys estimated 55°. He mentioned hypothermia being possible at such temperatures. Next came speculation about how strong the currents would be. Then, we noticed a police boat hovering near the dock. At that point Buoys deemed it officially a really bad idea to even consider swimming, since we might possibly be arrested. I (and I think many others) were happy to defer to the D1 swim coach’s opinion. It didn’t seem like anyone was gearing up to take the plunge, so the majority of the remaining pack started running.
When we made it to the beer check, we realized that some of the folks there were looking across the harbor towards the BN dock, and had spotted swimmers in the water! Who WAS it? As more folks filed in, it slowly became evident that it must be You Oughtta and The Second Cumming.
Boom! A cannon fired (a nightly ritual on the USS Constitution, but timed portentously), and at that very moment, the police boat started quickly moving towards the swimmers. As we watched the chase from shore, a semi-panic set in. It somehow seemed logical that the police boat was going to radio to the land force, and soon we would all be encircled and arrested for public drinking. I became terrified that You Oughtta may have (finally) managed to successfully sabotage her future career in medicine. While some kept reiterating that we should probably get out of there, most of us were too absorbed in the chase to stop watching. You Oughtta was out ahead, and had just managed to out-swim a large passenger ferry. It was harder to tell if The Second Cumming, was in its path or not.
After the ferry passed, the police boat swooped in and picked up The Second Cumming. You Oughtta was only about a 150 m swim from shore. Could she out-swim the police? Um, obviously not, as was aptly pointed out by Necrophiliac Jack, as the boat was, in fact, a boat. It came up alongside her, and, reportedly, she told them she was “fine” and wanted to keep swimming. But alas, the police did not oblige her request, and You Oughtta was also picked up by the police boat.
On the boat, the police lectured the two swimmers about the danger of hypothermia and informed them that most of the people pulled out of those waters were already dead. Go You Oughtta and The Second Cumming for beating the odds! “It will, however, make a great drinking story some day,” conceded the cops. Or in about 20 minutes! After giving their names to the police and officially refusing medical attention, the two hashers were let out on the pier and trudged to the on-in, still managing to arrive well in advance of bag car.
So for those of you who weren’t there, can you guess the on-in? OBVIOUSLY the Hong Kong. Everyone was thrilled to get there, and then not thrilled to discover that Friar and the bag car were lost somewhere in Greater Boston. Some of the savvier hashers had their IDs with them and were livin’ it up while the rest of us wallowed outside. Luckily, there was some outdoor entertainment in the form of a party trolley full of nursing students who had just graduated. Their shirts displayed the motto of the evening—“Nurses need shots too!” That group piled into the HK while the trolley blasted such classy tunes as Britney Spears’s “If You Seek Amy,” which has a really deep hidden meaning, in case you didn’t know. FINALLY, GAP ran down Friar, somehow managed to squeeze himself inside a backpack, and directed the bag car to the on-in.
Since this Hash Trash is way long enough already, I won’t say much about circle, but it was rather hilarious. Virgin Cara and Virgin Dan were demented, GAP was accused of being the worst hare in the history of the Boston Hash, You Oughtta and The Second Cumming obviously drank for being over-achievers, Dirty Latte and Wooden Eye also drank for jumping in the harbor but not swimming across, Buoys for putting on deodorant before the Hash, and medical professionals for being associated with the party trolley nurses. All in all, a fantastic evening.
GAP, you will be sorely missed. Best of luck to you buddy. May the Hash go in peace,