What: Tales from the Great White North
Where: The Great White North (ie, Jay Peak)
Who: A lot of people, most importantly Sketchy and Spunk.
[Disclaimer]
While there was a trail, and I remember a surprising amount
of it, there was a lot more that happened in Jay this weekend. Some of it I was
there for, some of it I was there for physically, but I have gaps in my memory
large enough to drive a shuttle through, some it I was there for, and have
memories of, but the memories are beyond the pale of scribing.
[Part 1: The Voyage]
The Yellowist of cars idled around Sullivan for a
surprisingly short amount of time before the prettiest of the hairettes joined
the wikiettiest of hares for the long drive north. She started taking off her
pants when the safety alarms in the wikimobile++ started going off and wouldn’t
stop until she put them back on. Safetly third. Other than that, the ride north
was quiet uneventful, and, unlike on other trips north, no one objected to
pulling over and getting alcoholic reinforcements for the rage that would
happen. North and north we drove through increasingly scenic surroundings until
we found ourselves stuck in 48 miles of traffic along the side of 91 because of
flooded out fields…oh, wait, wrong rage-mess-weekend off US 5 in northern
Vermount; we got off 91 and meandered through landscape that made the passenger
state, something along the cliché lines of “Now this looks like
Christmas/winter/whatever.” I didn’t mock them because they were right. It was
very pretty. Eventually we caught up to a Subaru driving 35 mph over the twisty
mountain roads, and followed them all the way to Jay.
Finally arriving at the party condo, we checked in, dropped
our stuff off and, after a brief interlude with Buttler, went to the waterpark.
[Part 2: Friday night]
Note: The rage was strong Friday (isn’t it always) so what
follows is somewhere between “factually accurate” and “historical fiction.”
Things happened; but the order the of the things might be.
Pool Rage:
After pregaming with cookies and wax, a group of people
called the shuttle, and to the Pump House we went. The group consisted of
Necro, Vag, Blackie, Wiki, Shart, Easy, maybe others? I want to say Blubber and
Whack A Hole, so, yeah, they were there too. Maybe it was Rainbow and Cockbottle?
Reader’s choice! After taking over the lazy river – adult raft, never let go –
we got out and hit the tube slides. A bit of a physics lesson here; momentum
works kids! Blackie and I were able to get some pretty good speed going through
the blue tube (green sucks!), and eventually we convinced everyone to go down
the Le Chute. The idea of Le Chute is much more terrifying than the actual La
Chute, but since it spits you out about halfway to the exit, it’s a nice last
stop before the hot tub. A note on the hot tub, since, unlike last year, it was
above 0 out, they let us use it! I can say, with 100% certainty that it was the
cleanest and most clothed hot tub I have ever been in at a hash event. Though
fear not, gentle readers, it was almost 9, and our clothes were sadly still on,
so we decided to beat a hasty retreat back to the Pump House to change, call
the Shuttle and head back to the party condo.
[Free Hour At The Party Condo]
A bit of history, Day Light Savings Time, was apparently
invented by some guy in New Zealand (shouldn’t it be winter saving time?), for
reasons that were mentioned latter in the wiki article that I didn’t bother to
read. The reason I bring this up is that for some reason, all the clocks in the
Party Condo were still on Day Light Savings time. When the Pool Party returned
to the Clothing-optional party, we looked around and thought “this is the right
level of rage for 9:30 on a Friday” and we added to the rage, with a quick
resupply of cookies. The Alagash was flowing free, and Twat won the “favourite
person” award for showing up with a keg of PBR, though there were still bottles
of “good beer” for those so inclined. Drink ball was played and a general good
time was had by all. Some people, YHS included, were feeling very proud of themselves
thinking “wow, it’s almost 11 and I’m not fading one bit!” Then, at some point
in time, the whole 9:30 to 10:30 hour rewound itself and it was all over a
sudden 10 o’clock again. After verifying that time had actually changed, we did
the only sensible thing to do – have an hour long dance party! After the dance
party, as people were becoming less and less clothed, and since it was now less
than an hour until the unofficial underground hash, the drink ball table was
cleared away and permission was granted to play everyone’s favourite game;
strippy cup. In a very surprising turn, I was on the winning team, winning to
the extent that we started to replace clothing so that we could continue humiliating
the already naked team. Once everyone was naked, and the time of magic was fast
approaching, more dancing happened as two sets of people tried to secretly plan
a trail. When Friday became Saturday, and Gimp and Douche grabbed a bowl of
carrots and ran away, quickly followed by a dozen or so naked hashers around
the back of the party condo to a shot-check
in the basement. In a truly surprising move, trail continued past the
party condo, to the next one where there was a beer check of naked hashers
standing around a surprising number of fully clothed hashers. The beer check
was cut short as we turned and followed carrots back to the party condo. There
was circle. There was a virgin. We swang low. We danced. We got drunk. We
filtered out, went to bed and had magic dreams.
[Bad Decision Saturday]
Note: To all future Antibuffetters-> Remember to pack
your ski-gear!
2nd Note: Butler’s cookies should come with a
warning sign.
I could barely move until almost 11, when an echoing call of
water park roused me from my slumber, and I followed DUI, CB and Rainbow, Twat
and Wanka and… someone else? To the water park for a second time; again the
never-let-go raft chain, then le chute, DUI and I double road the green and,
according to Butler (who was there?) the tube sagged significantly as we went
through. Most importantly, though, the outing finally cleared my head from the
night before and I returned to the party condo a quasi-functioning member of
the human race. Deciding that I was only going to change once (I failed in that
quest), I took off my bathing suit and dawned myself in my winter hashing
finest of pink warm up pants (<3 Harlot), the fucking bunnies shirt from
marathon 2012, and returned to the party condo. A few people remarked that I
was a beautiful vision in pink, while Rainbow, spotting an opportunity suggested
that I needed bright pink shiggy shocks to go with my outfit, and I agreeded; I
was now pink from cranium to toe! And then sat around and waited about 90
minutes for trail to start.
AntiBuffet XI Trail:
Hares: Bring out the Gimp, Pig Fucker
Bag car: Decible
Pack: Everyone plus Stops To Pet The Pussy, Roscue P Cum
Stain, and their dogs.
Circle: Krusty attempted to RA that shit, and asked people
who they were, where they were from, and where the person next to them was
going to pass out. Pack was relatively unenthusiastic, but with most people
passing out in the snow, we eventually ran off to find the hares. Oh, and gimp
doesn’t know what a penis looks like, everyone show him.
[Trail Downhill]
Breaking news! We were on a mountain with skiers, so after a
little bit of tooling around condos we hopped a snow bank and crashed onto a
ski-run below one of the chair lifts, where we were stopped by a song check,
deep snow and a strong reluctance to scout downhill. We are hashers, we know
better. However, with no marks in any other directions, we eventually ran down
the slope and, finding marks, called onon. There was another check on the
slope, and eventually we exited right, over another snow bank and down some
quasi-paved roads to a very paved road. A short death march later, as I was
slowing down to smell a check back, I noticed that we were running past last year’s
beer check, and thought this odd, though there was a check ahead. There were
two marks up a snow bank, then a set of marks, though only one pair of foot
prints down the snow back and into the golf course. Since there were plenty of
marks, I kept following trail, yelling OnOn (though I’m quiet sure no one
followed), expecting a CB or YBF to great me eventually. None did. The
footprints lead me to the same road I had noted earlier, so I whistled for pack
and quickly found the Beer Near/Beer Check behind the golf club house.
[Windy BC]
Was windy; there was beer and there was wine. Pack came and
milled around for a while, and once our beer started freezing, we started
shuffling about and moved on in search of trail.
[Trail Cross Country]
Since we massacred a well groomed cross country ski trail, I
will take this opportunity to thank the correctly spelled Orgasm Famine for
pointing this out to us, and informing us that what we were doing was wrong.
There was also a sign that said “Pedestrian Traffic Prohibited” but we are hashers,
not Pedestrians, so we ignored the sign. Trail followed the x-country path
through the golf course before turning off into some deep snow in the woods.
There was a check back that Ass For Gas scouted, and trail continued on
pavement for a while up a hill, past some condos and to an empty lot near some
dumpsters.
[Hot Chocolate, left over beer and wine Check]
Luckily for the hares, there was no official record of trail
last year, because so far we had covered 100% of the checks and 98% of the
trails. The Hot Chocolate check this year, though, featured spunk walking
around offering people real chocolate/candy. It was getting cold and dark, so
we left.
[Trail On Really Pourly Plowed Roads]
For those of you who don’t know, most of the condo’s a Jay
Peak are Ski In/Ski Out, which means that asides from the main trails there are
cleared paths connecting all of the condo blocks. It was on these that we spent
much of the last part of trail. However, there are some people in pack, who
were unaware of this, and commented “Wow, they didn’t plow these roads at all!”
Also, I got complimented on my Unicorn hat, 90% of pack walked 90% of the
trail, and no one (that I saw) followed the “True Trail” marks through the snow
when the party condo was clearly visible up the “well plowed” road.
[CIRCLE]
Dirty, sweaty, wet and warm we all piled back into the party
condo. The FRBs were put to work moving furniture (though it stayed in the
condo this time), out of the way so we could circle. The hares were called in
and they should have used more flour and chalk, when asked to sign to us, Piggy
sang us a lovely song about his old retriever to the tune of American Pie.
FRBs/FBIs were called in (Ass for Gas and Shart) [probably not 100% accurate,
but I really don’t care,] DFL was called in, and I’m calling her Disco, though
I know that’s a lie. Either way, we then got to the survivor
circle; all non anti-buffet virgins we called in. 2 timers drank, 3 timers
drank, 4 timers drank, 5 timers, 6 timers – the crowd was getting thin – 8 and
9 timers drank and were dismissed, until at last Piggy stood alone with 10
anti-buffets to his name. Sadly, there are non Anti-Buffet Survivors, Piggy did regale us with story
time about the history of Anti Buffet; basically it started in Happy Valley,
almost died, was resurrected by Burlington (Moon), almost died/burned down, and
was taken over by the beautiful pair of Scetchy and Spunk, who have returned it
to it’s previous glory thanks in large part to massive excel spread sheets.
So…back to circle. There was a Just there, who’d been a Just for a long time,
or so she claimed, so we made her get on her knees. We started asking her
stories, and she told some good ones, but then No Man, having scouted this
naming, asked her a question “What happened your first time?” To which she
responded “Well the guy tried to stick it in three or four times, but it won’t
go so we gave up and tried the next day.” This story was greeted with ruckus
applause and names (mostly bad) were tossed around until Piggy suggested “Whack
A Hole.” Pack Agreed. Just Lisa is no more; hence forth she shall be known to
the hash a “Whack A Hole.” Um…we also re-devirginized the one real virgin (we
had popped his cherry at the ugh, but it grew back), and then thanked Sketchy’s
mom for sewing OnOn feet onto all of our pajamas. Dinner was brought and we
swang low.
[Either help clean or go to the water park!]
I choose water park…we filled two Shuttles with hashers as
we, and everyone else at Jay, made their way down to the Pump House for
post-ski/post-dinner relaxation. The lazy river was moving at a faster clip
than before, or maybe it was all the kids running laps in it, when not being
yelled at by the guards. Speaking of being yelled at, Goat and I decided to tandem
the blue slide, nbd, right? Except that we gave ourselves and push start and started
leaning into the corners. During of the dark corners in the tunnel, I think we
either guessed wrong, or leaned to hard, because the raft flipped, and I ended
up going down on my stomach before flipping onto my back as I flew out of the
tube. There was a very pimply and very mad guard who informed Goat and I that
we were to “stay in the raft the whole way down.” I quickly assessed the
situation, I felt as though the hot tub would be the best place to avoid
further runins with the constabulary. Getting to the hot tub, I found the
hashers in the far corner and joined them, and was pleasantly surprised that
little viles of quasi-vile liquid we being passed around to help numb us to the
annoyance of the Canadian fuck trophies who were actively trying to freeze the
hot tub. Alas, that was not another one of my horrible jokes, well, it was, but
whatever, it was true. The kids were jumping out, grabing handfuls of snow and
throwing them into the tub. This was very annoying, and Mudslut tried to get
all teachery on them, but that only forced them to try to “hide” what they were
doing. No Man, never being one for childish games, disappeared inside. She came
back with a sly grin on her face. A few minutes later, a very official looking
man came out and said “If anyone brings snow into the hot tub, I will bring
them out of the pump house.” With our special viles gone, and all of us being
depressingly sober, we decided that we should beat a hasty retreat to the land
of free beer and bad decisions.
[Bad decision Saturday]
Returning to the party condo after 9…
There was an ugh hared by the taqitous without any beer…
…I next remember waking up on my bed in my bunny suit.
[ONON]
364 days Until Anti-Buffet XII
-Wikipedophilia
Announcements:
2/13-15: Boston Moon Away…it’s like buffet, but less skiing
and more rage. Also, no water park.
2/27-3/1: Burlington Mardi Grass…it’s nothing like buffet,
but is rage in Burlington.
Note: It will be cold!
4/18: Boston H3 Marathon: Disney Dirty Princess, May all
your Wet Dreams Cum True.
[Rego will be up this week!]
May: NURD
June: Something?
July: INVIHASH
August: GAP
December: ANTIBUFFET XII
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