>From the extraordinarily large crowd gathered in the parking lot at the start, I knew immediately
that even the worst of summer's heat couldn't keep my fellow deviants away from a hash. As
Cha-Ching and I made our way to the rowdy crowd of whistles blarred and the hares,
Continental Drip and French Toasted were off, shooting past us, scattering flour verily. As
the sweat rolled down my back I got the feeling we were all in for a melt-down of a run. I was
feeling the need to relieve myself after the drive, (and I won't mention the needless distance we
traveled, we are the MOUNT VERNON HASH HOUSE HARRIERS, God forbid should we
actually run near MOUNT VERNON) so Hot Legs and I found some underbrush under which to
squat. With empty bladders we joined the rest of the hash where Father Abraham was already in
progress. The pack axiously awaited the coveted "running" call and we were off.
The trail led us through what seemed to be an ankle-turning bunch of underbrush. I spotted No
Class, Black box, and Screws Everybody in the distance cautiously manuevering through the
pitted ground. I turned around to see who was behind me and I did behold such a sight. The
pack was cumming across the field in four different directions. If Julie Andrews had been there
to sing a Sound of Music tune the picture would have been complete. It was beautiful. Really.
Rutro and I followed trail from the field into a wooded area and were thankful for the foliage.
Quick Drawers blew past us as Poop Deck took up the rear. Trail led to a rather large stream,
some would say "creek." The puppies on trail were just happy to see water and made a bee-line
for it. Yes Dear, Bullwinkle, Steamer and Lucy looked refreshed as they bounded out of the
tributary and it was just about this time that I started to realize that I was getting a tad bit thirsty.
I thought to myself, "Don't worry Scoop, they'll be water up ahead at the water stop." And I
went on running. Little did I know that I would be denied this water stop and that thirst would
not be quenched due to the mischief of hooligans on trail. More on the mysterious water stop
disappearance later.
While most of the pack took a right up and around AOL, I caught sight of Capt Titanic straight
ahead with Harry Budda following him. My first thought - a short cut. My second thought -
yikes what if I'm wrong. I turned to the short cut God, Poop Deck, and asked for his sage
advice. "Too early to tell. I'm staying on trail," was his answer. That's the last time I ask for
his f-ing advice. I did stay on trail only to find the entire pack had missed a check on the other
side of AOL and had to enlist the help of Late Comer in order to find it. Fortunately for all of
us, Slick had Hairball well in hand with studded collar and leash as we crossed the highway
and started up a small hill. At about this time I started to hear the word water being uttered quite
frequently. Hollow Point ran past asking desperately - "Isn't there supposed to be a water stop
on this trail?" By the time we got to the top of the hill we all realized that, in fact, there should
have been a water stop but the water had been stolen. Of course everyone was very
understanding and I only heard "kill the hares," once or twice. The last half of the trail ended up
on a bike path full of Saturday morning bikers. We even heard a few On-Ons from them. While
Harddrive and I were comparing beer bellies, Spits it Out ran past us no doubt thinking "when
is this hell going to end." Soon trail led to the back of Old Dominion brewing company where
the circle ensued. Many Violations were handed out, many returning hashers returned and a few
virgins came. Unfortunately, if I am going to fit all the information in this trash I don't have the
space to name you all. Suffice it say that Hairball got the hash shit. Thanks to Dual Air Bags
for filling me in on the Hairball in the buff story. That was food for thought and will be for
quite some time.
On-On,
Scoop