Tuesday, January 8, 2019

New Year, New You Trail

New Year, New You Trail - Jan 6, 2019
Hares: Shart of Darkness (alone)
Bag car: Massage a Trois
Pack: Tinderdick, Virgin Cara, Virgin Jack, Shits 'N Ladders, Sex: The Final Frontier, Knuckles Deep, Cock Lobster, Quarter Mile Queer, Clit Notes, Bottom Wrangler, Honorable Vaginal Discharge, Easy as 123, Just Matt, Deflatedate, Orgasm Falmon, Wax Off, Yellow DIck Gnome, Dribble, Just Sarah, Swedish Eagle, Cuntcussion, Dry Hoes, No Man, Just Lindsey.

Thinking I was FRB, I was walking to the Sill for prelube, when I came upon Tinderdick ahead of me. We arrived at the bar, finding a half dozen hashers already premature at 2:30. We milled around musing that SIlouette was one of few dives the Hash had touched that hadn't closed yet. Quarter Mile brought the 2 virgins for the sacrifice as promised. Cuntcussion complained that she had to shower that morning to get wine out of her hair.* Bag Car arrived as late as pack was early and Quarter Mile barely got a Chalk Talk out between troll hecklings.

I headed totally the wrong way and pack solved trail through the CVS parking lot and past Penniman playground (Light Side/Dark Side BC2) and over the Mass Pike via Everett St Bridge.

On the other side, Shits quickly spotted On-On, only to turn out False. We joined the rest of pack through the student slums of Lower Allston before arriving at the Collins Square Shot Check, also stolen from the Light Side/Dark Side trail 3 weeks earlier. I ran down Franklin St, figuring that the hare was just going to steal our route to Harvard Stadium so that the November Project people could do some more stairs. Such disappointment when marks abruptly ended, though lead around a fun little loop of a housing nook featuring mammaries. BC1 was the most Allston hasher place in existence - between a podcast production studio and a towtruck lot. PBR was featured, but so was Rebel IPA. Surely, this trail was too fancy for the likes of us .

Leg 2: New Year - New Police

As pack headed out, we happened upon Soldiers Field Road, a perfectly safe minor road for a pack of running drunkards to stumble across. Appropriately, we stayed on our side looking for marks. We fumbled around before someone yelled On-On from the other side and off we went to the river, coming across a (barely) undercover police car staking us out. We ran back to bagcar for BC2 for more assortments of nice beer and cider. Still too fancy,

Leg3: Never Trust a Shart After Mile 3.

Shart assured us that between the 3.5 miles we had and ON-IN, we would be sure to hit ballbuster length. A False led a few people into the little circle island thing, which, when revealed to be False, left the poor victims to fail to find a way out, having to backtrack.

A stupid-stupider split left your trust scribe conflicted, but he elected to be stupid and follow trail across the Eliot St bridge into Cambridge. After running through a hospital parking lot, we mused if trail would end at Paddy's, though a knowledgeable few claimed that Shart somehow lived around here.

After a few more scoutings, we found that Shart had become suddenly wealthy, opulent and retired-age old in the time since we had last seen her and she lead us into a domicile, sure to be home to a Supporting-level member of NPR, far too fancy for the likes of any hasher, asking us to remove shoes before being lead into the resplendent basement nicer than any of our parents', replete with a bathroom, exercise equipment, a sauna, and white carpet we were sure to not leave any visible stains on. It turned out to be Shart's housesitting charge.

Virgins were demented by Gnome, who forgetting that Jack was Jack, asked him if he had an uncle Jack and what he would do to help his Uncle Jack. We didn't find them acceptable but took them anyway. Accusations flew, including showering because of wine in the hair. Upcoming events such as Marathon were announced. We swung low and assured the Virgins-Cum-Justs that we would always have good beer on trail and we also always end in the cozy warmth of private Cambridge chateaus of some Harvard professor. At some point in time, remaining hashers did crow pose and I don't remember why. Sporadically, Shart's boyfriend came to check on us, never staying more than the minimum 10 seconds to confirm that we were alive.


Monday, January 7, 2019

#BestTrail #WorstTrail #LastTrail #TrashTrail

Now that I've had a full week to reflect on the last/worst/best trail of 2018, here's a hash trash!

What: #besttrail #worsttrail #lasttrail
Hares: Wiki and Marbles
Bag car: Blondie
Pack: Bottom Wrangler, Testicular Mechanics, Master Gator, Tinder Dick, Waxxx Off, Mr. Bean, Just Sarah, Just Lindsey

On my way to the prelube (Lower Depths), the hare texted me to let me know that he and bag car were running late, and to please start collecting hash cash. This turned out to be an easy ask, since when I arrived at the Depths at 2:25, I was literally the only person there. I collected my own hash cash and waited for other people to show up.

Eventually, others began trickling in. Finally, when we had given up all hope, the hares and bag car showed up. (They all blamed each other for being late, so idk, pick one of them at random and assume it's their fault). 


We halfheartedly attempted a chalk talk, but it was chilly in the shade and everyone knew more or less what was going on anyway, so we quickly said "fuck it" and headed out.

The first leg of trail, which Wiki definitely real-life scouted and did *not* google scout, took us through various construction sites in the Fenway area. It was notable for being a rare trail that actually goes in 369 degrees, as there was one point where we had to climb a ladder to continue on trail. Wiki later expressed that he had thought about tricking us by pushing the ladder over (so that it would be lying on the ground when we got there instead of leaning against the wall), which I guess he thought we would struggle to figure out...? Though we *are* half-minds so I guess I can't blame him.

Eventually, we ended up at the first beer check, which was in Muddy River Park. As we've come to be accustomed to on Wiki and/or Buttler trails, there was Trillium interspersed in the beer cooler, as well as some other ~lesser beers~.


The second leg of trail started immediately with a turkey/eagle split. Eagle continued across a bridge, while Turkey was a CB 11 or some large, scary number like that. Not wanting to retrace our steps quite that far, literally everyone except Testicular Mechanics decided to take the Eagle. If you have hashed with TM, you might be surprised to see his name in this context -- it turned out later that he thought it was a Tough/Easy split (and thus thought he was taking Tough), but also, this was his first time being alone on trail and he rather enjoyed it. So there you have it -- Testicular Mechanics would rather run trail alone than with any of us.

We Eagles wound our way through Northeastern/the Symphony area; marks were fairly hard to see and rather spread out, so it was slow going, until we got totally stymied at an intersection. From there, we descended into pandemonium... everyone was scouting every direction, and no one knew where anyone else was, and the pack kept diminishing as people independently found trail but the rest of us didn't know which way they had gone. 

Mr. Bean and I finally figured out where everyone else had gone (coldly leaving Master Gator behind us, since he was nowhere in sight) and followed trail to the shot check, where we found that the hares were about to come back to look for us. We enjoyed some boozy hot chocolate before heading out to find out way to the ~super secret on in~.


Perhaps sensing that he had toyed with our hearts enough, the hare led us directly to Machine, which apparently is not closed after all??? We were basically the only ones in there and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the prices the bartender was charging us for pitchers (but in the good way - one was on the house, one was $3, etc.).  

Marbles and Blondie, who are apparently much more popular than the rest of us, left before circle to go to another social obligation, so we selected several proxies for them (Master Gator and Tinder Dick, because they were "lookalikes" apparently -- in our defense, we had been drinking) and proceeded with circle. It's been like a whole week, so I have no clue what we accused people of, but there were some of those. Rainbow and Mangia both showed up. We got pizza from Dominos, which we made short work of; following circle, we hung out and critiqued each other's dating app profiles. Aaaaand that was pretty much it!