Date: 28 February 1999
Hares: PayPerView and Well Drilled
Beer Crew Drop Box and Rocks Off
Location: Van Dorn Metro Station, Alexandria, VA
What is it about Sunday’s?? Why must it be cold and rainy every bloody Sunday??
Because!!! Mother Nature knows we hash on Sunday. I’m not paranoid, but this scribe is pretty sure it is a plot to kill us all, or at least keep us from reproducing.
The first harbinger that the weather would be bad, other than all that rain and greyness, was the fact it started at the Van Dorn Metro station. Haven’t been to a hash that started at Van Dorn where is hasn’t torrential downpoured.
The trail started out per usual, straight out to Van Dorn St. While some folks followed Late Cummer and John Handcock under the railroad tracks, those of us who knew better followed flour up to the train trestle. As a Public Service the White House Hash House Harriers hope to keep Amtrak alive and well by running on the tracks and risking the $500 fine, per person for trespassing. Fortunately, Amtrak officials are smarter than we and had the sense to stay indoors this cold, rainy, day.
Unfortunately, the same sense does not apply to hashers – ‘specially since we followed Great Balls Of Fire up to the tracks and hung a right. Trail of course went to the left anda handful of nonconformists, Duck Job being one of them, went that way, while the rest of us cattle went right.
Eventually, the cloud fogging our brains lifted briefly and we realized that those who had gone left did not come back (nor did they yell “on-on” or blow a whistle, a drinkable offense if ever there was one); Off we went, across the tracks and into the mucky bamboo. Why is there bamboo in Virginia?? Is it indigenous?
This was a joy! Shiggy up to the ankles; Shiggy good. Past a junk yard, into the woods and up an old logging road. Okay. It wasn’t an old logging road. But it SEEMED like one. This road went up hill forever and wound about the woods. Until we got to the beer stop. Somewhere before the beer, the rain stopped. God was smiling on us. He did not want to water our beer down.
Here deviants like Oral Presentation, Butt Plug, Needle and Thread, Mellow ForeSkin Cheese, Late Cummer (wearing shorts!! Like wow!), Watergate, Blazing Straddle, $50 Bitch, Bark-A-Dildo, Because He Can, Black Box, Bunion Rings, Cock Force One, Cock Spit, Cyclops, Dirty&Hairy, Eat Me For Breakfast, F**king Pesto Chicken, Hairy Buddha, Holy Tit, Hawaiin Puke, Latin Anal-ist, MissedErections, Mammorex, No Butts No Glory, Number 2, Put It Out, Right Key Wrong Hole, Rocks Oft, Ruined It For Dad, Sir Fucks A Lot, Slip Knot, Spinal Tap, Stool Sample, Take Me Drunk, I'm Home, Target Practice, Tez's Smirnoff, The Body, West Virginia Woody, and whew! many others...well at least a few others..milled about drinking beer and dripping on each other.
GBOF decided he needed to serenade the group from the top of a muddy hill; but because he has not been taking his medication, he was roundly ignored. Big Bird Turd felt he needed to shine a little light on the day, joined the medicinally challenged, and showed us a FullMoon. At this point, the herd started to nash their teeth wildly and stampeded up the street to continue the trail. A hasher, who will remain nameless, had a map (who hashes with a map??)- but the map was wrong!!! A hash map that is WRONG? Hard to fathom. The Body verified the map said go left, but trail went right.
Trail took us through the lovely condo/townhouse section of Alexandria. An area where there is still a few feet of available land and more townhouses ought to be built to cover up all that icky dirt and those messy trees. This was Beazer’s trail. Missing Link is still learning to write. He let Beazer carry the chalk to show us the way (one could say, that the hash has really gone to the dogs). By the way, Beazer looked very natty in her hooded “Big Dog” rain poncho.
Trail was becoming hauntingly familiar at this point (we’ve hashed here before), more woods, across a stream and YES! through a tunnel leading under 495. The tunnel was reminiscent of Alice-In-Wonderland, as it became lower and lower as it went. But at the end of the tunnel was not only a light, but a Belgium Beer check manned by one of our lovely hares, Well Drilled.
With that, it was not much further to the end. And thus endeth this trail tail.
Because the weather sucked big wads of dirt and it was raining even harder at the end, it was decided that the circle should occur at the OnOnOn, Nicks. And it did. We had to fight our way through a HORDE of either line dancers or swing dancers (it was hard to tell which..they all look the same don’t they?).
Virgins were sacrificed to the rain gods: John who said the “Internet” made him cum (stay away from the sex sites John; John - (Ruined it For Dad); Donna - (Just Matt); Anchalee - (Holy Tit).
Visitors: Just Toni and Just Mark from Sir Walter Raleigh Hash House Harriers, North Carolina. The vistors made the mistake of telling us they had no names, so we took the liberty of naming them.
Mark is now Fabio’s Bitch because of his long, luscious locks, Toni is Hand Job because she is a sign language interpreter.
Namings: We also named two of our own, JP Baudin is now called:
Don’t rain on my parade... BiteMeElmo
(the fabulous Ms. DangeRously Close was experiencing technical difficulties so Ms. For Sale or Rent filled her shoes..a tough job to do!)
The walkers were on their way, all 7 of us and we thought the rain had stopped! NOT! Well what has become the only way the walkers leave Van Dorn Metro -- up to Eisenhower, right to Van Dorn and up the @##@# hill! Though the sight of many way-lost hashers on top of the railroad trestle amused us for a bit. Refusing to go up on trestle was Latin Analyst. She waited for Late Cummer to come back down from the walker's trail and then they both took off paralleling the tracks!! Saw the Hare - PayPerView - auto- hashing and placing what must have been critical "hare arrow" at the juncture across the street after the pack had cleared the area.
As I caught up to the walkers, I noticed 2 distinct groups. What looked like a big yellow cock (Kiel Bastard) leading the way for the three little red chicks (Black Box, West Virginia Woodie, and Missed Erections). I chose to stay with the second, Spinal Tap and a lovely lady hasher who cums in from Annapolis. She only cums to WH4 when another lovely hasher of Philly H3 cums down to visit.
As we continued to climb up all the steps, Spinal Tap realized that the hare had made a grievous error, not giving the walkers the TRUE short-cut which was "no steps, no hills" and through the tunnel!! Well he did keep on whining. Funny, I didn't see him at the MVH3 PMS Hash the morning before. He could have gotten some of it out of his system!!
Then through the terrain of junkyard land (been here, done that). Sad graveyard of abandoned cars strewn amidst freshly bulldozed trees and slick slippery muddy trails. SHIGGY !!! Each group went different ways to meet up and confer with Black Box as to which way the trail went. One group looped through a BT and back on trail as the stragglers, poor rain drenched r*nners came through. New WH4 member, Sir F*cks-A-Lot (Mike Cox) from the Dayton H3, just waited for the walkers to lead him onto true trail, which we did!!
We were so near the beer check that he probably could hear the sound of beer flowing. DangeRously Close, keeping quite dry under a huge-ass umbrella, was helping CWAS and Rocks Off with the beer. We picked up two unknown runners, one later to be "the Alloette" of the evening. Last to come into the beer check was none other than ….. Slip Knot.
The instructions now were to ---: Go back the way we came in!! Quickly voted down!! We set sights on the highest hill, shortcut the muddiest part, only to come into contact with real briar shiggy. But a great cut it was!!! Black Box was blazing trail.
Watergate and “that guy from Philly” running towards the walkers – exclaiming they were going to take the short cut to Van Dorn Metro!! Spinal Tap finally set them straight, since they were actually running away from it. This time we took the tunnel too!
On-in. For Sale or Rent