Hash Trash

I have to say that I was intrigued by the pairing of 59 Minutes and Puke Halt as our hares for the evening's trail. 59 minutes with his speed and agility...Puke Halt with his penchant for danger (and foul-tasing hard liquor). It's a combination like the bacon chocolate chip cookie or hot pepper jelly. If it works, it's genius and if not...well, it's just another shitty trail!

We circled-up in Shaw park and the sun was starting to slip below the horizon. The first thing I noticed was an obnoxious amount of coolers. It seems that when 2 beermeisters are haring, all the other beermeisters decide to show up for moral support. Like sorority sisters...in a sorority that only admits ugly men. Greg LooseAnus, our newest and most prepared beermeister had 2 shiny, brand new coolers with the flavors of beer and soda (to mix with hard liquor, I assume?!) all neatly arranged by color or flavor or some system that only our overly-prepared friend could explain.

Hashers started rolling in...the regular suspects plus a visitor named DTF, Red Roper our new transplant from CoMo and Dusty Box pulled in on some 2-wheeled, mid-life crisis machine and announced he brought a virgin. We didn't have the heart to tell him she must have fallen off, because he was definitely riding solo. Turns out Just Karen arrived in another vehicle so the search party was called off. Lucy was there, passing around a bottle of bourbon and then he disappeared into the night...

Stink Palm was our RA and he got us through chalk talk and sent the hares on their way. There were 7 coolers of beer to work on, so we got to work on that while we gave the hares their 10 minutes. They claimed they were laying live trail which I have to believe. If the clusterfuck we were subjected to, was pre-laid, Puke and 59 need some serious help with Google maps.

Once the call was made for "on out" the pack took off through the park and headed into Clayton. We dodged fancy German cars and ran through fancy neighborhoods, following the legible dots. So far, so good! After some winding around the neighborhoods, we heard the cry of "beer near" and then "beer stop". The hares had told us during chalk talk to "bring 3 to 5 dollars for the beer stop" which would have paid for a bucket of Stag in most places but were in Clayton's fancy 'Craft Beer Cellar' and thing were a bit more expensive than South City. I could tell by Frankie's hard-on that this was some nice stuff. Everyone bought a beer and sucked it down, not before annoying all of the patrons who were there for an evening of quiet beer tasting. The bartender seemed happy, as his tip jar was overflowing and he smiled and waved as we disappeared out the back door...

Maybe it was the high alcohol beer or maybe it was the fumes from the Bentleys and Audi's but trail seemed to fall apart after we left the fancy beer store. The pack split up on checks, where the BJ's were hidden or covered with leaves. There was a Turkey/Eagle split where the Eagle trail led through a slimy creek and to 3, 10 foot tall sewer pipes with no dots or arrows. After venturing down each pipe and not seeing any markings, some of our braver hashers decided that pipe number 1 must be the right one and disappeared into the tunnel. A few of us decided we had something to live for and backtracked to the Galleria parking garage and spent 10 minutes trying to figure out why there were 2 dots and an arrow that pointed to nowhere. We were joined by our not-lost-or-dead tunnel dwellers and eventually found that true trail went into the mall.

Normally, running through a crowded mall would be a joyous experience, savored by the pack. Tonight though, we were so far behind the turkey trailgoers that we had to make up time, if we were to enjoy any beer at the beer stop or beer halt or puke halt. And, wouldn't you know...turns out it was all three?!

Here's where things get a bit fuzzy. I don't remember the exact order of all these events but, I swear on Gispert's grave that they all happened:

• A puke halt with Sriracha flavored vodka. A shot so vile and painful to drink that the bottle was at least half full when we left the halt.
• A beer halt with tall cans of Clamato beer, Olde English 800 and some type of faux, canned margarita nightmare.
• A gaggle of middle school girls chasing us and snapping cell phone pictures.
• A beer stop, I think??

We somehow made it back to circle. The pack looked battered and beaten. I heard someone who had smuggled technology onto trail say "5.5 miles" which sounded about right. Songs were sung, more beer was consumed, lots and lots of Doritos were passed around. I think I remember Headlights getting a cranium band which Locknut pulled from somewhere deep inside his pants. All in all, it was just another 59 and Puke Halt shitty trail!