We had started the day at the East Falls Church Metro
Station, where you can park for free on weekends. Hares WANKERS
AWEIGH and BOOB had told us to park there and to bring pocket
change, but not to feed the meters. I think this is kind of
neat, 'cause if you had a weekend job actually at the Metro
Station you could drive to work and park for free. As I drove
up, everyone was already walking toward the Metro stop. I parked
the Soxmobile in the lot (thinking, "Gosh, if only I worked
here") and jogged after the pack. A dollar ten later, I was
boarding the Orange Line to New Carrolton.
I've never been to New Carrolton, so I was pretty excited.
On board, though, TOXIC COCK told me that we were going to the
Virgin Square stop . . . only to the Gallstone stop for the
shortrunning folks. Maybe next time. After all, I can pare for
free on weekends. En route, RUT RO debated whether she could
count the train ride toward her weekly marathon training mileage.
We kissed half the pack goodby at Gallstone and before you could
say, "Doors closing," we were at Virgin Square. After running
about for a bit, looking mostly in vain for flour, Byte, Jekyll
and the Usual Suspects took off on trail toward Washington-Lee
High School. Saner folks like PIG FUCKER, TORE ASS, SOME GUY and
me realized that the train had to pass back by the Ballston
Station, so we ran that way. In time, BUSH MASTER popped up, and
he and I quickly realized that although we were going in the
right general direction, we were not on trail. We backtracked
until we found flour on the Martha Custis bike trail near Glebe
Road, while CAPTAIN TITANIC lumbered past us on an alleged
shortcut. After waiting at this check for a few minutes, PUBLIC
ACCESS and a few others appeared. They had tried to find a
secret beer check at MR. MAGOO's, but failing to do so, they
returned to the Mt. Vernon fold.
Maybe I left the List at BOOB's. I'll call him. No answer.
I'll leave a message.
BUSH MASTER got a little silly and started forging other
Hashers' names at checks. That's why you may have thought you
were trailing SWEET CHEEKS, ONE HUNG LOW or SLIP KNOT. In due
course, I found HOLLOW POINT, who was running the short course,
at an Eldercare Hostel. How apropos. HAIRY BUDDHA joined us in
solving a check that doglegged past the old folks' home, through
a park, and back out onto pavement. By this time, the FRBs had
rejoined us and were blazing the way. S'NOT materialized, as
well, and showed his butt as we cruised through the Westover
neighborhood. Sticking to the W&OD trail, we crashed past a
couple stealing a romantic moment in the park (before their
respective spouses woke up) to find a path and road that ran
alongside I-66. And here were the alternate FRBs CHRISTINE and
MILK MONEY, as well as CDR (SEE DICK RUN).
Shit, BOOB still hasn't called me back. Let me call him
again. Great. Sure. Fax it to me. I have this great fax
software. Thanks a million, BOOB.
After a bit on these road, our merry band hopped into some
woods and climbed into the backyard of the house next to BOOB's.
His neighbor motioned us next door to the beer, and festivities
were soon underway. A contingent of ne-er do wells from Dayton
were rabblerousing while in town for a reunion courtesy of alum
HAWAIIAN PUKE. RE-ENTRY and POCKET SCIENTIST touched down, just
to remind us that you can be a rocket scientist and still be a
Hasher. I commended BOOB for laying a well-marked trail: very
uncharacteristic for this pair of Hares. PINK SLIP hosed the
scum off the top of the hot tub, which pissed off JEKYLL, DA
RUNT, TOXIC COCK, SLICK SLIT, MISSING LINK, BYTE LIGHTNING, who
didn't appreciate being hosed at all.
Damn, the program's not working, and I need that information
pretty soon. BOOB, could you just e-mail it to me?
Good food. I walked back to my car and got the Trash that
Steamer, Scribe-in-Exile, had published. The best part: I drove
back and parked on the street in front of BOOB's house. For
free!
OK, the e-mail made it here, and I downloaded the fax ok.
Great, except that I find it's in some weird computer format that
my piece of crap computer can't read. It's like Betamax of
computer software. And it's too late . . . I need that
information. I'll just do what 7 MINUTES usually does. I'll
fake it.
The Hares were served Down-Downs for a trail that was shitty
enough. The Dayton Hashers complained that it was boring; coming
from Dayton, that speaks volumes. The Get-A-Life Club may well
have welcomed QUICK DRAWERS (his 300th run), CROSS HARES (200),
BOOB (95) and LAYOVER (35). Mount Vernon's Virgins in the Mist
were in all likelihood KEVIN GALLAGHER, TERRANCE MCMAHON, JIM
KURP, SECOND FIDDLE and ... GERBIL HERDER (Yikes!). The Dayton
visitors plus a few others could have been PENIS HEAD, HARD HEAD,
FUD MUCKER, BOB GRAY, JEFF & BARB FISHER and CHRISTY ESMON. All
sorts of folks returned to the Hash, or didn't: CAPTAIN CRUNCH,
STAFF INFECTION, HOOD ORNAMENT, FAMILY JEWELS, RE-ENTRY, TWO
LIPS, DICK SEALE, PIG FUCKER and SHRIVELED SEAL. WATERGATE
probably justified her Hash name by admitting that she had slept
with G. Gordon Liddy, but hadn't inhaled. BUSH MASTER & BUSH
WHACKER were returners as well. He had that cute little haircut
and she had new shoes! In his benevolence, the mighty RA BURNT
SOX forgave BUSH WHACKER for this sin because she, four months
pregnant, was the only Hasher properly equipped for this Labor
Day Hash.
Violators allegedly were: BURNT SOX & FOUL BALLS (Late
sign-in), Hares (no water stop), PIG FUCKER (marking his own
Hares' Arrows on trail), CUNNING RUNT (publicity photos), ASS
LICKER (pimping on trail) and PIT STOP (falling down and going
boom). We sang the song and left. My computer sucks.
But I didn't pay a penny for parking, all day long.
ON-ON,
Burnt Sox