You know it’s going to be a good hash when you type in “HSBC Bank Manlius” and Android replies that no such business exists.

Nevertheless, I managed to find the location and waited in the heat for the rest of the kennel. Cum and Feel It must have realized she was going to play the part of lifesaver in this heat by providing a buffet of beer and canned margaritas. While we were waiting for Magical Dickslit and co-hare Stiffy Lube, Flesh Flaps brought out her hula hoops and it was once again proven that women can hula and guys for the most part excel only at watching and drinking beer, though there were quite a few valiant tries.

Hares were quite late, and rudely left no beer for us hounds, but we were graced by the presence of Ithaca’s honorable Master Baster, along with a strong contingent of Ithaca hashers, a visitor from New York City, and some other honorable guests. Four (five?) virgins joined us on this blazing hot day as well. Baster called circle together we warmed up with a rousing rendition of “Father Abraham” – focusing on how to be a priest with rights, lefts, other right, other lefts, OOHs and AAHs! Amazingly there were no crashes and lots of laughs.

Finally! The hares ended up arriving much too late, and without any beer. Magical seemed to use every hashing symbol in his chalk talk and we finally broke to scout trail. We entered Mill Run Park and ran up the dirt trail to a check. Since it was the first check, we of course ran the wrong way, and had to be redirected back down to the right trail. Once on the right trail we ran through the park, over fences and around obstacles to the picnic pavilion. Here the trail broke into Turkey and Eagle with most of us, myself included, intrigued to try the Eagle. It should have been renamed as Trout instead of Eagle as we romped through a fishing area and into Limestone Creek.

There were many hash crashes due to faster and higher than normal conditions of the creek, as it had rained epically the night prior. After my second hash crash, I came to the realization that fat floats and swam where I could. It was a great way to beat the heat and provided a good amount of amusement, as the half-minds around me would misjudge an area and slip. Speaking of Slip, Puddle Humper and Vomit Comet were adventurous pups, happily swimming along, though Puddle gave up before we were finished. Being dropped by Slip and forced to float along to the next rock he could reach, he was pissed and held it against her for hours. Unfortunately, after about quarter mile, the pack had to climb out, only then realizing that water-logged running gear in heat is very uncomfortable.

The trail then led us away from the park and into the Manlius cemetery for our (FINALLY!) first Beer Near! While the kennel undertook their first real rendition of “Chicago,” others drank and socialized. I got stuck doing a body search of myself after removing a leech from my ankle. This got quite a few laughs from people but hey, if something is going to suck on me, it better be human and female or it is going to be forcibly removed. As the beer ran low, we ran up the cemetery and into the other cemetery across the road. I am not sure if the fountain we encountered was part of true trail but I am sure that most of us made it part of it. We changed directions around the maintenance area and ran to Route 92. At this time, running up the hill in the heat started to take its toll and many started to slow down.

We slowly proceeded to make a right turn into a residential area and ran for about 6 blocks (with the exception of the FRBs who got tricked by a YBF into running 12 blocks). At this time some flowers mysteriously ended up in hasher’s hands as we made a quick left/right and ended up at Chez Dickslits for the second Beer Near. Here, the kennel met Momma and Poppa Dickslit, and we were welcomed to use the family pool.

Some of us were graceful entering the water and some like me didn’t care and flopped in the best way we could. The hash learned to play a new game, Pool Penis Cock Ring Toss. Well, actually it was a ring toss onto pool noodles but the rules stated they were held between your legs and you had to thrust to get the ring down the length. Flesh Flaps seemed to be a pro at this sport and many others succeeded but most were content to just lounge around and cool off from the run so far. After realizing the harriettes had abandoned the game, and only harriers were left trying to out-penis themselves, the game abruptly ended.

Though we would have spent hours, the hares reminded us that there were still trial to find! And so, we were on our way. Upon leaving, Dickslits with “Meet the Hashers”, presented them with flowers we had freshly plucked from their neighbor’s discard pile and proudly exclaimed in unison “Thank You Mr. and Mrs. Dickslit”.

Onward we ran, to a local playground for a Playground Check! Our wetness not withstanding, the inner children inside us were released onto the equipment, frightening a young family trying to enjoy the sunshine. On the mesh rope pyramid rope, we must have exceeded the weight limit but we had a glorious picture afterward. Running a zigzag course back, we encountered many adventures on our trek back toward Circle. We almost ran over a deer which would have made for an interesting story. A helmet was found by Pleasantly Average and donned by him as he went around the circle. He said he needed to check the protection it offered and many a hasher took the time to let him have one across the head. The helmet became known as “Gispert’s Helmet of Honor” and will be given out to those hashers who prove true half-mind heroics.

At Circle, a light drizzle was started as Baster guest RA’ed. Virgins’ circle-cherries were popped amid lightning and thunder as the storm got worse. A rousing celebration for Just Nick’s birthday was performed amidst many cheers and much drinking.

Finally after abbreviated Down-Downs we couldn’t take it anymore and we hightailed it down the path back to the car with inch thick hail pelting us. Some of us mused this must be God’s answer to us singing “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing” in all the cemeteries and churches lately. The trail back was treacherous as now one could see well and mud was coming down the hill and making the trail slippery. Slip slipped (obviously) and Cum and Feel It felt the effects of her tumble the next day. During a momentary reprieve in the storm, a large number of the pack changed clothes and took off for the On-After at Stingers, which, coincidentally was closed. Stiffy Lube’s car got stuck in the cemetery parking lot, and a rescue team had to be sent out to him. Just Nick and Slip’s trunk got friendly. And then the kennel took The Ugly Duckling by storm (pun intended).

Respectfully submitted,
Just Tim (and Slip and Swallow)