October 12th starting out like a typical October 12th for me. It was my birthday and I was wondering how I managed to live through another year, then the dreaded horror hit me: the Tweedles, assisted by Deflower City, set the day’s hash (cue dramatic music!)…
Knowing how they are, for lack of a proper term, special, thoughts of wandering aimlessly lost or sinking into the canal came to my immediate mind. Facing this uncertain future, I arrived for prelube with the other half minds in the Erie Canal parking lot.
It was quite a feat but we managed to squeeze cars into places where it was a wonder no one scratched any paint. During prelube, Tweedle Me was trying to quiz me on my age but I didn’t give into her as I was sure she would come up with a diabolical torment (at least she doesn’t have her broom anymore). After a thorough lubing for the half-minds, the Tweedles and Deflower gave their chalk talk. I was kind of relieved that this week you didn’t need to decipher hieroglyphics like at the Wiener Hash (shout out to Just Lisa and Just Pete for that insanity…).
We then went “on-out!” and saw flour and were assured that at least this week we would start on the correct trail. However, we were Tweedled (and here I thought being Tweedled would be a more pleasurable experience), led astray for quite a bit before doubling back to the original check. We then proceeded down the canal path for what appeared to be a straight run, through one check and then through a second check and then we found out we were Tweedled again, the sneaky little things they are.
Back to the check up and over some shiggy to the, what’s that, BEER NEAR! Jokes were told and best joke of the day went to Tofu for his joke about old hashers. We also were running some commentary (no pun intended, RC) for a couple of golfers and Pleasantly Average, the gent that he is, ran some beer over to them.
After finishing we went “on-out” and onto the Erie Links golf course. Following the trail and being reminded by Kickstand not to run on the greens, we ran down the side and to the bridge where we found more flour and proceeded to try and cross. The hares screamed for us to stop and return to a check we blew through. While checking we saw the trail would force us to forge across Butternut Creek. Without delay, half-minds took the plunge. We all made it across safely (including Puddle Humper (thanks to the hasher I don’t remember for saving him) and the rest of the canine contingent). It was here we rewarded with a sweet treat consisting of caramel apple vodka shots and apple cider. Usually I only take a small amount but hey, you only live once and it was one of the best things we ever had on trail.
After the shots we proceeded up the shaggy (and shiggy) slope and ran the canal side a little more until we were led by the hares to a special check area for chocolate treats. The streamside of Butternut Creek was inviting and besides, I can’t have chocolate so I thought I would just wade a little.
“How deep is it?” Slip called out to me. My reply was “It’s about 2-3 ffeee…..splash!” as I back stepped off a rock and into a 6-8 feet deep pool of 40 degree water. The rest of the half minds seemed to delight in finding a perfect swimming hole and many jumped into the frigid water. Pleasantly Average did a back flip which prompted Slip to tell everyone not to do that (he had cleared the rocks by a foot or two, so no blood no foul!) but it was when Tofu jumped in we all held our breath fearing something would happen (I sure hope I can do stuff like that if I live that long). Slip finally gave into temptation and ran in too. While most hashers were in and out, Tweedle Me and Brownie seemed to delight in the frigid climate, spending the entire Candy Check there. After a while, Tweedle Me led the hashers in “Happy Birthday, Fuck You” and to add to my special day people passing in golf carts wished me a happy birthday which I don’t know if I should be embarrassed that we could be heard on the links or proud that hey, we stand out and make an impression.
Alas, the day was getting on and we needed to make the next beer near. After a straight run down the path, several adventurous hashers decided what is better than walking over the creek on an aqueduct which is narrow and crumbling? We ended up running across a swampy area and a creek which would make the swimming in Onondaga Lake look and smell cleaner. We forced ourselves through this and through thorn bushes but hey, what’s better than running through sewage smelling water AND getting puncture wounds?
We hit the second beer now and by this time we were all in agreement that while the course has been amusing and well thought out we really needed to find a creek to kill the smell. On-out from here led us into the Erie Village residential area and flour turned into colored chalk. We even came across a drawing of a dog which according to agreement of the group looked like a rainbow was coming out of its ass. My guess is the Tweedles took the Art Institute course offered in magazines.
We then proceeded through the road way and back onto the golf course, while running by signs stating “No Trespassing – Violators will be prosecuted” and onto the bridge we were at earlier in the hash. Up a small hill and by the road was another shot check. Someone passed around diarrhea, um, I mean a mixture of pumpkin pie mix and rum. To sum up the taste, one hasher said the taste combined dirt and fireballs and another said “That was ……. Awful”.
Undauntedly we were in the home stretch and running on roadway when PCP and I decided to walk and talk about mead brewing and wine vinting. Seeing us walking, Kickstand and others literally pushed me to run the last bit; I guess they have no sympathy for an old person.
We ended up at circle and more beer plus tequila shots from my never ending bottle. At this point, we realized that somewhere along the way, we’d lost Tofu. Nobody could remember seeing him since the second BN. Fearing we finally managed to kill a member, a search party of hares was dispatched, contact information was exchanged, and most of us just drank in anticipation.
Lo! Here come Tofu! He had made a pitstop to visit with his daughter and hadn’t considered the hash would be so concerned. Grateful for our though unnecessary worry, he did a down-down with a full can of beer and dumped most of the contents on his head. I guess old hashers don’t die, they just make you think they did and come back to drink about it.
Accusations were made and down-downs giving. We noticed that one virgin had been lost but he left a nice little note saying he enjoyed his time. The remaining virgin, Just Brian, was accosted and, loving the day, said he will be back anyway.
Next came me being forced to divulge my age. PA was trying to make me do an up-up but Kicky, thank a higher power, said no because 46 isn’t divisible by 5 or 11. I was forced to do a side-side and after everyone contributed multiple beers to the mug, I was forced to drink while several people got hernias lifting my fat ass off the ground. Why do frat boys make it look so easy? I ended up choking on beer and committing alcohol abuse as some hit the ground.
We have had 2 namings and Just Adam became Bushy Cholera (names for his love of Hot Bush and Cholera) and Just Chris became Snidely Whipass (because he looks like Snidely Whiplash and the bastard made us run the train tracks for miles!)
We then left to the on after at Trapper’s II. At Trappers, we feasted on 50 cent wings, cheap beer and other items while watching the SU game. After the game someone scored a volleyball and we proceeded to drink and play. Score was, well, nonexistent but we did manage a few good volleys.
Kneegina showed the reason why Frankenstein’s monster never played volleyball by ripping open his stiches from the ZombieHash. Nurse took care of him while we played around him and it was at that point we decided we needed more beer and less balls.
After drinking some more, Tweedle Me and Bushy decided that birthday cake was in order and went into the private party room and acquired some cake. This said cake ended up smeared on everyone and Tweedle and Bushy tried to grab more. A nice, BIG gentleman kindly asked them to remove themselves from the area and we decided it was time to head out.
All in all, it was a great trail, lots of fun, and one of the best birthdays ever.
Same Job, Different Orifice