The 40-somethingth Founders' Day Trail
Hares: Dead WIki, Live WIki and Clit Notes
Bag car: Dribbles
Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier, Pat My Fly, Just Matt, Knuckles Deep, Clit Notes, Just Lindsay, Master Gator, Hare Club, Pop Cum Ear I'm Infected, Just Sarah, Massage A Trois, Cherry Popping Paddy, Quarter Mile Queer, The Buttler Hit It, Waxx Off (STF), Virgin Nick
Prologue: Doing nothing but checking my social media obsessively, I resolved to head to the newly reopened Beacon Hill Pub early and read. I arrived to find Knuckles already there with a self-starting virgin who learned of the hash when he stumbled across a Red Dress Run in South Carolina. We marveled at how much BHP had undergone in the 6.9 ish weeks it was shut down: there was now a door to the toilet so it was possible to shit without the need to avoid eye contact (or to make it vigorously?).
Leg 1: Wiki is the Machine who Goes "BING"
We were promised a short trail with a new* On-In. Trail was dead-laid and we wondered out, finding very little marks. We found a trail going through a building tunnel, but it lead to a CB6 and we were back to where we started. Somehow approx. 69% of pack found trail, leaving me, Quarter Mile, Just Matt, and Hare Club(?) wandering desperately. Just Matt elected to follow the old adage, "Trail Always Goes Uphill". Still nothing. We shouted our desperation, lost until finally we heard a nonchalant "On-On" from what could only be the voice of Buttler!
We followed Buttler to pack and happily reunited (0:22). We followed pack down hill to Cambridge St, where not even a check was to be found. We ran back and found nothing until Wiki stood directly next to the mark we were supposed to see and directed our attention. The utterly invisible mark was well camouflaged by road salt of the exact same color and the fact that all of pack, excepting Just Lindsday neglected cranium lamps on a winter trail that started at 6:30pm. We proceeded in this manner, utilizing Wiki sonar to locate the marks that may as well have been laid in disappearing ink, until arriving at a CB.
I ran out ahead down Cambridge St, finding a check at Staniford. Giving up after several scouts, I began to take note of which direction Wiki was willing to walk with pack and redirected my energies accordingly. With the hindsight of Strava, this is where we lost Buttler (0:38). As he was scouting west, we ran down Staniford, guided by Wiki and when Buttler turned around we were gone. Buttler valiantly strode pack and forth about 5 times, without the benefit of Wiki sonar, before finally solving trail.
By this time, we had proceeded through the West End apartment complexes, toward Storrow. I half-assedly scouted that way before turning around and seeing Wiki unmoved to the direction of the other scouts. Trail went past the science museum. Without stopping to find marks, I went straight to one of our favorite beer checks, though it had moved to be under a bridge to ensure maximum windiness.
Leg 2: So Cold.
Clit Notes volunteered to join Wiki to live lay and they were off about 6.9 minutes later than we wanted, given the cold. We found utterly no trail in 368 degrees, but Just Lindsay found a mark on the sea wall, leading us through the toast warm Cambridgeside Galleria and on out to a Song Check, which I relocated to into the warm toasty mall, where muggles completely ignored our entreaty to Meet the Hashers.
More near-invisible marks lead us through Kendall, a Hash Sitapeed, and out onto some river road. As we took the Longfellow back to Boston, QMQ and I mused that the "new*" On-In was likely BHP. We were arrested by a Song Check, and a CB2, before heading down into the lovely new landscaped area. At this point, we gave up and zenned to BHP, Just Matt displaying an enormous feat of rac*sm in sprinting ahead last minute to win the hash and the associated medals.
Circle began and Wiki sang Hasher Charlie on the MBTA with the one verse anyone knew. I attempted to improvise my own verse about Wiki and sh*tty, but got stuck and Wiki-ed myself when I found myself unable to rhyme "marks" in time.
Since we were waiting for pizza, we stuck on accusations for a while, lasting longer than any hasher would in bed. We accused Wiki several times of the trail. Waxx Off was a Sweat Test Failure. We demented the Virgin, who declared himself to be back woods. We decided we didn't find him acceptable but would take him anyway. We swung low, attempted to finish our beers, and walked to HK for 1S1DH3 (2:22). The evening finally ended a little after 2 that morning as I stumbled out of Coon Ass' place trying to catch a Lyft home that turned out not to exist.
On - 43 more years - On
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