Trail trash - M*rathon Viking Taco Trail

What: Taco Vikings

Where: Sunset Cantena, Comm Ave, Boston [See I can get it right!]

Who: Iggnorance is Piss, No Man on the Moon

Sack Car: Peirce My Sourass.

Pack:

 Jesus, you expect me to remember this? Ok, here goes: Statory Swallows, Virigin Mike, tickets*, Certified Poop Accuntant, Four Way Blow, Hair Crotchery, Bum Fucking Vagabond, Jello Wrecked ‘Em, Spank Me May I have My Mother, Peeping Tom Pussy, Drippy Spicket (I think that’s his name), Can’t Douche Pussy Land, Just Krystin, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, Extraterrestical, Swedish Eagle, Polar Hortex, Mangia My Vagiana, Pappy Van Tickle, Udder Whore, Luv a Lamp, Spunk In the Trunk, Encylopedia of Child Buggery, Broke Back Baby, Condom Search And Rescue, Frair Fuck. Maybe others.

Start:

After arriving at the correct start location I was going to the men’s room to change and over heard a server in the kitchen saying “I just passed a man in the bathroom putting on a kilt.” Wondering who I would find, I was pleased to see that CEP was in there already but he was putting on a skirt! (I only learned of this at the On After, but, don’t worry, he’ll drink for it!). Quickly shedding my “professional/real people clothes” I went back to my people and ordered a beer. Tickets told me an amazing joke about the democratic leanings of gang bangs, and social mingling happened for a while until eventually the hares were gay and sack car was called.

Chalk-talk:

Was anarchy. Serious anarchy. I’d feel bad for the virgin, but after what he endured at circle, I’ll give him a pass on not knowing what the marks meant (and he was FRB!).  Oh, we were told the hares had hidden Viking helmets on trail; anyone wearing one at the onin would get a prize.

Trail some lady part:

About half of pack ran uphill from the start, and the other half downhill; surprisingly trail went downhill. It turned a few blocks later and then came to a check at the base of another hill.  Zenning like I knew where I was going, I took off uphill on a very promising 2 (and out), then turned left and ran past pack standing at what I thought was a song check on the other side of a field. Yelling out that I was zenning, and ignoring their responses, I continued on and found trail leading to a (HN) mark, and found a helmet in a tree which was way too small for my cranium. It was then I was informed that the song check I had skipped was actually a shot check. Whatever; I pulled a nip out of my kilt, downed it, and kept on going. Following trail through a school and across some major road, there was eventually another left hand turn followed by a song check and another (HN) which Spank Me found. Trail continued on a ridge of sorts to the base of a very long, very steep hill. There was a check, but, honestly, I don’t think anyone even scouted; we all just went up hill. Some of us even ran the entire way up! At the top of the absurdly long hill was a beautiful view on an open trunk with cold beer!

Beer check lady things:

It was a beautiful view of something. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I did know that I was slowly being warmed by my PBR. Pack arrived in waves; the FRB runners, the FRB walkers, the running pack, the walking pack and finally the walkers. When we had all congregated we mostly talked of travels to warmer places because it was a bit chilly and windy up there overlooking whatever it was we were overlooking. Orange food was based around, beer was drunk and the hares left. Then the bag car left and we got cold and decided to leave as well.

Trail: Why do their restrooms have murals of nature scenes and couches?

To anyone with the barest sense of knowledge of geometry, the next part of trail was obvious; downhill. However, being hashers, pack was skeptical of every downhill check we came across because we seriously can’t be just running downhill the whole time , can we? Yes, yes we can. Well, except for that one really steep downhill that was a YBF. Luckily the virgin scouted that one out for us. Thanks virgin! Trail turned left at that check and ran along a road until it crossed another road. Eventually, we saw a true trail pointing into a parking lot with the bag car in it.

CIRCLE:

Lets be honest; us burritos don’t run taco trails for the trail, we run them to experience the lady circle. It is a strange and different kind of multi-faceted (oligarchical, I think is the best word) cluster fuck, run by one of my favourite RAs* (well, I’m kinda scared of her now) Ignorance is Piss. Circle started pretty normally with Drink a little bit, fuck a little bit, then the hares sang for us and we for them. It was a romantic, beautiful affair. The night was continuing merrily along as FRBs, DFLs, and FBIs (Virgin Mike, Friar and Jello, respectfully) were called in and mocked for their speed. Everyone’s favourite tradition – the administration of Pabsmhers were given to all Burrito-carrying taco virgins – tickets, Spank Me, Virgin Mike and Drippy. They played along and got pabshmear all over their vasages and their hair. Then. Shit. Got. Weird. Virgin Mike (sponsored by the long lost and now found Statory Swallows) was called in for being a virgin and Magnia and CPA came out proudly announcing the start of a new taco tradition. With the completely unsuspecting virgin on his knees, and under a spot light provided by DUI Done Right, CPA and Magania produced something that looked like two spoons attached (backwards) to a pair of kitchen tongs.  I did not know this, but apparently ladies get that shit shoved into them. Wow, and I thought “Cough twice and turn to the left” was weird. Anyway, they took the spatula/scapula/whatever and pried the virgins mouth open with it to administer the down down through. Not knowing any better, he did the first – “holy shit was is this thing” – down down like a boss. He might have been the first virgin who was actually worthy! I really don’t remember if there were any more accusations? Anal got a pussy? I thought that wasn’t happening until next year? Whatever. THERE WAS A NAMING. Standing in the circle was a burrito of such infamy that his name and reputation are known everywhere on this side of the Mississippi, and most likely beyond. He is a man of great talent, high abilities, and impeccable class; he is, the perfect modern gentleman; tickets. The tacos threw this over deserving man on the ground and made him assume the position as they pried his mouth open for a taco-down. He went down as tickets, and arose as CUNTFACE! There was religion, announcements, then we invaded Harry’s.

On After:

As I said, we invaded Harry’s. The bar was full with muggles when we arrived, and none left a half hour later when it was only us and the lesbian rugby team. Rage.

On – Seven months until Saddie – On

Encyclopedia of Child Buggery

Announcements:

Ball Buster trail tonight - Fizz Ed's, Pleasant St., Malden, MA (Malden T Stop Orange Line)

Beer Mile/Pub crawl tomorrow: Esplinade at 7pm sharp!

MAIN EVENT SATURDAY – Registration opens at BHP at noon.

Fat Beaver Sunday – Tommy Doyles in Kendal (Brunch at 11, Trail at 12:30)

Beer Check at Mile 20 Monday

First Wednesday trail is April 30^th, hared by Shart of Darkness and Easy as 1,2,3

NURD – In may

Boston RDR – In June (maybe)

Burlington Invihash – In July

GAP – In August

Pearl Necklace – In Septmeber

AGM – In October

SADDIE HAWKINS – In November (I hope!)

Anti-Buffet – In December

Trail trash - M*rathon Moon Prelube (or why we had to call AAA)

What: BH3 M*rathon Moon Pre-Lube

Where: Parking Lot/Bar at the Best Western near Alwife

Who: The Butler Hit It, Just Tasty

Bag car: Bring out the Gimp

Pack:

Anal Disco, Just Pat, Oh Brother Where Art OW, No Man On The Moon, Salty Mud Flaps, DUI Done Right, Spunk In the Trunk, Emillia Air Fart, Condom Search and Rescue, Laurance My Labia, Can’t Eat Pussy, Blowbot, Chris Brown Eye, Easy as 1,2,3, Jingle Jisms, Cum Ear.

Pre-lube:

Arriving in a bit of a misty rain, Air Fart and I found CEP and Blowbot standing in a not very sketchy (by hash standards) parking lot. After gawaffing for a while, a minivan taxi pulled up and we thought this was either Anal or Udder, so I gallantly went up to open the door for the lady inside. After opening the door and not recognizing the lady, I closed it and went back to gafawing with my friends (hashers, whatever). A little while later, Oh Brother Where Art OW got out of the cab, suitcase in tow, and said that the she had to argue with the cabby to let her out with this strange, kilted, men in the middle of a parking lot. Just Tasty arrived and told us that the prelube was not in a random parking lot, but was actually at the bar inside, so we scampered in out of the rain.

Once inside we ordered some tasty beer and waited for the other hare and bag car to show up. Then we ordered more beer and wait some more. Then more beer and more waiting. Eventually,  Butler and Gimp showed up and the hares got gay with pack away happening around 7:30.

Circle:

It was pouring, so much so that by the time circle had ended, the marks which we were to be looking for, but couldn’t find, had been totally washed away. This wasn’t a good omen.

Trail Nimbus:

From the start trail ran through/over/whatever the round a bout/rotatory/traffic circle/whatever where Alwifebrook parkway and someother park way met. We then began our 3 hour jog around fresh pond. Don’t worry, I won’t end this story here because there is more to tell. Once on the path we had the devil of a time finding the marks which had all been washed away by the torrents of rain and lashing winds.  Pack would find a mark, then scatter looking for more, then regroup and scatter again. After a relatively short while we found a beehive, which I hope was not in use, and a bottle of honey whiskey on top of it. We passed that around, but also passed around a bottle of Colt-45 that DUI brought. I don’t drink anywhere near enough Colt-45. None of pack knew the song “if all of the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops” and Anal tried to start a song about allegators, but that failed and we went on in search of more trail.

Calling it trail would be a diservce to all of the trail blazers of yore who worked tirelessly to cut and blaze trails through rain forests or steep mountains. We followed a seemingly random distribution of flour, and eventually ran into the hare saying “the marks have washed away; the beer check is over here.”

Beer check Demos:

Air fart and I tried to remember which m*rathon moon trail had used this dock as a beer check before; maybe Teabags and Balls Deep from ’12? Maybe it wasn’t even a moon trial? It was raining and the beer-like-liquid (I’m not going to call Natty Ice beer) was quiet warm, but, surprisingly, not bad. We drank it. No Man did promise that if pack comes across a tire swing on trail, she’ll take off her top and jump on it singing “I came in like a wrecking ball!!!” The hares  then teased us by saying that because the rain was washing away all the marks they could end trail in about 50 yards or, then they ran off. We, being hashers, assumed that they were going to end trail in 50 yards.

Trail Gimbus:

Foolishly believing the hares, we took off into some shiggy and across a gulf course. The rain had let up a bit and trail was strangely well marked, across an empty course – golfers are not known for the metal of their mantels – and eventually to a song check. Pack regrouped then CEP yelled that he “knew where we were going” so we followed him down a 2 and out, before cutting back through the rough to another golf cart trail that eventually took us out to a basketball court area in the pouring rain. The calls of OnOn ahead of me had stopped and I saw a form standing amongst the trees so I assumed that we were at the BC. Nope, just a hare snare, and after waiting no where near the appropriate amount of time, I ran off to find more beer. Run and deftly leaping through the woods I was brought to my knees by a very poorly timed jump over a pricker bush that snagged me in a most unpleasant area and, after pausing to catch my wits, I got back up and chased after the hare. Snaring him again, he asked me if I wanted to help get beer, I didn’t, and so he led a walking pace through the woods, and eventually we ended up at a completely flooded out beer check – whore island! The walkers scrambled down a very steep and muddy bank while the pack tried to get to the beer while stepping in the least amount of murky standing water.

Beer Check Titian:

We did not know this was a beer check until the hares left. By we I mean I, and by I, I mean it was my guess based off the evil lie the hares told at the first beer check. Either way, there was more warm Natty Ice to drink, and so more was drunk. The flooded tracks around the BC were very sketchy and everyone was comparing them to Promethesus, though to me it looked more like the pool out side of Moria. Speak Beer and Drink. Not wanting to disturb the CGI monster lurking in its depths, I scrambled up a very steep and very loose and very muddy slope to get away.

Trail Full:

Following the tracks we emerged back basically at the start, and ducked through an alley to the sports complex where we have also OnIned before. This time the rain was really coming down and the wind had picked up so we were grateful to hare for finding an amazing semi-sheltered dugout to have circle in. As pack arrived, the hares went to get beer and orange food from bag car.

On Eros-

While techinically the OnIn, the lack of beer or orange food made it more of an “On group of hashers standing in a dugout.” After what seemed like a very long time the party which went to get beer and the orange food returned, without beer, or orange food. Instead, they informed us, Gimp had locked his keys in the car and was waiting for triple A to come and help him. After a good amount of grumbling, and an extreme failure of democracy in favour of mob rule, we returned to the hotel bar and walked up and ordered drinks on the visitors credit card as if nothing had happened. The bar tender, not quiet sure what to make of us, handed out a few beers while the hostess of the hotel came out and handed all of us fresh, warm towels to warm ourselves while we waited. More beer was bought by more credit-driven hashers, and Anal eventually bought everyone a shot of Fireball, 14, I believe was the total number of shots. We kicked the bottle, and had to supliment the order with Jack Daniels. Did we ever keep the bottle? We should have! With an angelic fanfare gimp entered and we all ran out in the rain to get our bags and beer and orange food. A few orders of fries had been but in, so after downing those (and changing into blessed dry clothes) we quickly scuttled outside under the hotel awning for an abrieviated circle, led by a rather drunk Disco, but at that point in the night, I had stopped trying to remember.

On – Hashing under a howling sky as the norse winds blew – On

Laurence My Liabia

Annoucments:

Taco trail tonight – 6:30HST, $5 Hash Cash, Sunset Cantena on Brighton Ave, take the B line

B3H4 tomorrow – 6:30HST, $1 Hash Cash, Fizz Ed's, Pleasant St., Malden, MA (Malden T Stop Orange Line),

The Longboats Arrive Friday – Pub Crawl starts a 5pm at 84 Beacon St, Boston, MA 02108

Glittery Viking Beer Mile – 7PM SHARP – The Dock on the Esplinade (trail marked from Charles MGH)

Spears and Magic Helmets – A Viking raid on Boston: Saturday April 19^th, 12:30 at Beacon Hill Pub (Also off the Charles/MGH stop on the Red line)

Sunday – Fat Beaver starting at Tommy Doyles in Kendal (Also on the red line). Brunch at 11, Trail at 12:30.

Monday – Beer check at mile 20.

Sometime in May: NURD

Sometime in June: Boston RDR (maybe)

Sometime in July: Burlington Invihash

Sometime in August: GAP

Sometime in September: Pearl Necklace

Sometime in October: Boston AGM

Sometime in November: Something

Sometime in December: Antibuffet