My carpool buddies Missed Erections and a grumpy Ranger (Bubbles) Dick arrived bright and early Saturday morning, improving the odds of my finding the start, although Union Station is pretty hard to miss. Some Neo-Nazi parade was planned for the District this afternoon, and Missed Erections and I were hoping for a Neo-Nazi sighting, but we decided we were too early for them, perhaps they would arrive during the trail. Bubbles Dick was in the backseat grumbling about being evicted from his apartment before his new house is ready because the contractor is about a month behind schedule. Homeless Bubbles Dick.

We secured a parking space near the station, and Pud Nocker told us where we could go. Which was a good thing, because the pack was assembling behind a row of hedges that were higher that the tallest member of my carpool. The hedge was providing cover for over one hundred hashers, as word of the Tricky Dick Trail II brought hashers from far and wide. Milk Money was buried under a sea of last-minute arrivals thrusting forward their meager $4, their expectations high.

None of the four cocky hares made any attempt to deny their guilt when accused of blatant pre-setting. Each bore a coating of flour and was ready to be pan-fried. Knowing that a photo opportunity was imminent, they refused to be off at 10:00 to even pretend to set trail. Realizing that we would never get rid of them until the photo session was over, all cameras were brought forth and the pack was moved to the front of the fountain (except for Hymen Dickover and Tore Ass, who were in the fountain) where yards of film and several butts were exposed. During this episode we had to endure the duck calls produced by a Duck-load of tourists who drove around the fountain in their duckmobile blowing their duck whistles at us. We, of course, blew something of our own. Finally we shoved the hares away; Blazing Straddle, John Handcock, and Richard Nixon boarded a Cadillac convertible and rode into the sunrise, and Stained Sheetz and Corkscrewed ran toward Constitution and the skinheads.

Eventually the pack circled up. Appropriately enough, Watergate led us in radical version of Father Abe and we were off.

Due to a rock in my shoe, I elected to take the walkers trail with the coolest of the cool hashers, led by Black Box in her orange prison jumpsuit which she wears every Tricky Dick trail to honor those who served time for their crimes. Last year, she had across the back of her jumpsuit "NIXON" in adhesive letters, which Burnt Sox rearranged to say "ON IN" on her butt. Cunning Runt was again seeing how the other half lives as she continues recovery from her injury, which did not prevent her from being an FRW. Holiday Ho informed us of her upcoming move to Germany, so everyone start making plans to attend Oktoberfest next year and stay with her! It was good to have my buddy Ben Stoffel on trail, even though he slept most of the way on his dad Steamer’s baby-backpack. One highlight of the walkers trail came when Nurse Crotchet and Pud Nocker snared hares Blazing Straddle and John Handcock, minus the Caddy.

I’ll bet the runners’ trail went something like this:

The pack stayed together until the Supreme Court Check, when Byte and 3 Times a Lady assumed their lonely role as FRBs, which they lost to Fly The Friendly Thighs and Dr. Strangelove as they approached the Capitol Building. The Deep Throat Check in the tunnel under the Capitol pulled the pack back together, forcing Drive Thru to assume command until she was tackled by the wicked Drinks On Me, Bud. The pack stopped to observe the ensuing wrestling match and place their bets.

Leave It In Beaver was the first to break away, poor guy was sweating buckets under that rubber Richard Nixon mask, and in desperate need of a water stop. Which he found by the FBI building at the Enemies List Check, a.k.a. the enemies and friends split, a.k.a. the walkers / runners split.

Meanwhile, as police in riot gear anxiously awaited the arrival of the Neo-Nazis, Quick Drawers and Poop Deck were, as usual, setting their own trails throughout the parade route. The skinheads would have a choice of following QD arrows or PD arrows to our stash of beer.

Back to the real trail, Fire & Ice & Steers & Queers were following flour to the Carousel, or Nixon Exit Strategy Check. Eat Me For Breakfast checked south, Bite Me Elmo checked north, and "ON ON" was bellowed by the bashful Dual Air Bags as she raced along the mall on her way to the White House.

Ed. note: Rumor has it that the hares were snared near the White House by a policeman on Nazi watch. Blazing Straddle allayed his fears with an animated explanation of what was up with the chalk and powder. The policeman said, "I thought you were a bunch of nuts doing something." To which the silver-tongued BS replied "We are."

The pack soon intercepted DAB at the Agnew Check in front of the old Executive Office Building. 14K Cock zigged and Vominatrix zagged through Lafayette Park, by the vendors and Ranger Dick’s fellow homeless comrades. Rat’s Ass was the first to arrive at the Washington Post building, where Corkscrewed and President Nixon were waiting with the second water stop. John Barrett was lost in a mindless drift back to the good old days when he arrested G. Gordon Liddy, an early skinhead of sorts.

Somewhere, closer to the Potomac, Bramble Bush was leading a small breakaway pack to the Watergate building.

Now in Chinatown, Stool Sample and Hairy Buddha were rambling by the Rocket Grill, on-oning by a one-time "A" for the Red Dress Hash*, rapidly approaching the Opening of China Check. Big Bird Turd, hashit-turned-scepter in hand, deemed Chinatown to be free and open for trade, and some excellent garage sales. That cleared the streets. He eventually gave up and followed Yes, Dear by the Surratt House, where plotting no longer takes place, but it would make an excellent drinking establishment, don’t you think? But then again, what wouldn’t?

It was in Judiciary Square that Hawaiian Puke saw himself in a reflective glass window and realized that he must have dressed in the dark, because his shirt and shorts actually matched. Pulls Out Early and Finger Pickin Good hung around the Mitch Snyder Check (get it?) until it the stragglers caught up with them, then it was on in to an excellent array of excellent wings, fruit, sandwiches, etc, and BEER. We had finished the first course when Rambutt and Bad Dog finished trail. Whew!

Circle was called, the hares and all the Dicks (Hymen Dickover, Ranger Dick, etc.) were called forth to drink. There was little pack beer left after that, so we had to break out the good stuff that is normally reserved for scribes. We had three virgins, and many visitors from White House H3. This is normally the space where the names of virgins, visitors, and anniversarians are listed (Cunning Runt was the leader of the Get-A-Life Club), but I once again forgot to retrieve the list that Milk Money so painstakingly prepares. For the past few months, I have been growing increasingly concerned about my forgetfulness. However, after attending my family reunion last month, I determined that

1) I have a lot of company, and

B) I'm probably not going to improve.

Back to circle. We also had a handful of visitors from Harrisburg-Hershey H3, who, after eleven months, had probably determined that no one from MVH3 was going to retrieve the giant red garter they had spirited from Black Box's big red foot (wooden foot, for decoration; Black Box herself has dainty feet) at the Red Dress Hash* last year, so they brought it back. Before handing it over to MVH3, they insisted on a virginal sacrifice, so Watergate offered herself up and the big red booty was handed over.

We had two namings: 1) Just Emma, a nurse who times herself on hashes, although for what activity during a hash I couldn’t say for sure. Anyway, potential names were 18 Minutes, Does Yoda, and Lunch Box, but the pack favored Emena, so Emena it shall be. And 2) another hasher who has proven her mettle by hashing with us for the 6^th time (Next week I’ll tell you who she was), for whom the names Hand Job, Raging Whore Moans, and High Beams were suggest, but 2 Dog Night she shall be forever! Or until she does something really stupid on trail.

Violations were plentiful: Leave It In Beaver, who wore the Nixon mask on the whole trail; Fire & Ice for her 29th birthday; all OTH4 hashers for police brutality; Vominatrix, who ran to the hash; 14K Cock for running ten miles before the hash; Poodle Fucked for f*cking with the On Sec; Ranger Dick - not bringing any of his homeless buddies with him to hash; hares - blatantly baking before the hash; Peter Garrahan for having his Nixon impression down pat; John Barrett for arresting G. Gordon Liddy and starting this whole mess; Dual Air Bags and Emena for matching hickies; Screws Everybody and Poop Deck for coincidentally parking in front of the on-on-on spot; Oar Whore for bringing only one hashing shoe (she ran in sandals); Big Bird Turd for think it was White House and trying to run the circle; and Rambutt for bringing her own chair to the circle.

BBT stayed in the circle to defend the hashit, but it was not to be (even though he had his pants around his ankles during violations. Or perhaps it was because he had his pants around his ankles?) Luckily for him, Dual Air Bags and Byte were both nominated for the hashit. I'm never concerned about getting the hashit when either of them is also nominated, there is no contest. However, when both are nominated, you can plan on a run-off vote.

Hugs and kisses,

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Next Hash

Hares: Killer Beeez! (and you know what that means!)

Start:

High atop the parking deck at GRCI, Inc in Tyson's Corner.

From the beltway:

exit 10, west on Rt. 7. At 2nd light, turn left onto Gallows. At next light, turn right onto Boone Blvd. About 150 meters later, see parking deck on LEFT, enter said parking deck, circle up to top of the parking deck; park; hash.

Note: parking is FREE; if admission is charged, you are at the wrong hash.

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* The next Red Dress Hash will be held Saturday, October 2. See Black Box for a registration form.

The Next Full mOOn Hash will be Friday, August 27, when we try to break last year’s record of how many hashers will fit in Just Fred’s hottub.

This edition of the MVH3 Trash is for visual consumption only. Turn Trash inside out and wash in cold water, lay flat to dry. Do not use this Trash as a projectile.