Its a Saturday with a special early out time, alas I'll be late again. Poor me.
But hey hashers were building homes for the poor so I can't really complain about $5 anal Habitat Hash. Goldicocks didn't even wound herself with any powertools, lost that bet.
So after leaving explicit instructions to mark the on-out time and an an arrow to point the way, I show up and STILL had time to down a beer before setting out with the pack. Other than the darkening sky which no one thought would amount to anything things were looking up. (I did mention that I drove through pouring rain for 40 minutes on the way there but nobody listened.) Trail was immediately hilly and the fools ran right on up, but Postage is no amateur, he smelled the CB out and decided upon a more leisurly pace and was well rewarded. Eventually the trail split the racists off and supposedly there was even boobs flashed. The decision to stay with the racists was a good one as count em, 5 home brews were left for us in baggy upon a hill (and a small can of panty remover, which one of our unnamed consumed since none of the harriets were interested.) Departing the BH a long line of children sold out the hare and sped us along the true trail. Things were going rather well the rain even felt great.
And then we turned down an overgrown side road towards the bluffs, sure there were some rather abondoned looking buildings with no tresspassing signs on them. Nothing new to us right? Then we got to the end of the road and were searcing about for trail when this happy looking silver Subaru pulls up with happy looking peace signs, coexists signs, make love not war signs, Gallager for president signs, lots of very happy signs. I think there was even a Dead sticker. So how could drive a car like this? Well obviously he had long graying hair and was dressed in non-conformist clothes. I figured he was going to thank me for the natural fertilizer I was distributing on the tree, or invite us to eat some fresh brownies, or even come join his folk music jam that was about to start down by the river...
In fact, as best I could gather through his yelling, he purported to be some form of security guard (I'm guessing this is one of those Office Space jobs where he was fired years ago and no has actually paid him for years but since he still shows up to work for free no one say anything, exect it would appear in this case that he was fired because the business shut down in the 80s.)
Anyway, the gist of his message was that we were tresspassing in Area 52, top secret stuff you know, there were cameras everywhere tracking our every move. His basic message was that we needed to get out immediately if not sooner. Having left my T.A.R.D.I.S. at home this was not possible and we were only managing 5 MPH once we decided he wasn't joking and actually started leaving. He was really unhelpful in giving advice on which way through the shiggy trail most likely went.
As I was explaining he was unsatisfied with the speed with which we were removing ourselves. So to help matters I slowed down. He responded by speeding up. Now, don't be hard on the angry hippie he did slam on the brakes before actually hitting me. After he realized that this tactic was not having the desired effect (my rate of travel was not down to a brake riding 2 MPH) he then suggested that he should shoot us. Which Mr long-haired paul Bart seemed sure was legal. As I suggested that his suggestion is a criminal threat. He resorted to invoking someone with actual authority, the Police. I suggested this was a wonderful idea. Apparently he decided this was unwise so we returned to the hit the gas, hit the brake, without quit hitting the hasher routine. Which I suggested was vehicular assualt(in what I was told was a very calm unaggressive manner, by the nurse who was sure he would be shortly carrying me). My suggestion that since he was winning two crimes to our one maybe we should call the police, seemed to finally get through as he did eventually back off a few feet.
We resumed jogging after leaving the property and hailed those far ahead of us to confer. The angry hippie watched from the end of 'his' road. We had some difference of opinion on how to proceed. One theory was to head away from the direction trail haed be leading us in order to find our way to the water and find trail by the river. Otheres felt this would lead back to exactly where we encountered our friend and perhaps we could find a way down the bluffs in the park the other way.
Having decided on the park we were happy to discover not only trail in said park but a BS, with a grinning oblivous hare, who wondered why we came in from the direction we did. How soon the good will from the home brew was forgotten...
Alas though we wanted to hold a grudge the hare had a healthy supply of tasty craft beer back at circle so all was forgiven. I'm sure other noteworthy things occured but i was too engrossed in the good beer to notice.
As an afterthough PMS was last seen riding off into the sunset on the bask of a bike with a hipster in a pink girls tank top.