The pack gathered in Columbia, IL for hash number 573 hared by Bama Mate and Keyless Entry. Our mis-directions stated that Columbia was just 5 minutes from South County kind of like how cities in Florida advertise that they are X miles from Orlando. Somehow I fail to see the connection. Even though we were on the Dark Side it didnít dampen our attendance as we had our largest pack in Illinois in centuries.
The hares promised food, that we would need a flashlight, shiggy and wet shoes and of course we all know that hares never lie. We circled up outside the bowling alley and next to the park where young impressionable children were holding soccer practice. Young children and hashers are generally not a good mixture but the MILFís watching practice made up for it. The hares gave an informative chalk talk making sure our four virgins understood that BS is our favorite symbol.
Once the hares departed we interrogated Just Colin in preparation for a potential hash name. We discovered stories about 69 with a girlfriend in front of a Park Ranger, frogs, drunken Colin wrapped up in a carpet and Bumper burgers. After our allotted 10 minute grace period for the hares we were away. The first of many problems presented itself as we approached a split in the trail with each path leading to a water hazard. After much consultation we decided that we should of course ford the deeper of the two crossings. On the other side the pack splintered. One group following true trail through a field and woods up San Juan hill only to find flour and glow sticks leading them to a road right back down the hill. The other group unknowingly ran trail backwards until we spotted the hare who kindly told us we were going the wrong way and to turn around. Of course this meant that within 5 minutes we meet the first group coming toward us and we had to turn around again and run the same stretch of trail for the third time. Luckily this time we found the beer stop.
After much rejoicing and refreshing we departed once again. This time we remained together and followed trail past a beautiful manmade waterfall. Several of us posed for a grope shot only to realize that we didnít have the camera. We continued through a car dealership parking lot. The drops of flour took us across and then along a busy street to a witchy way. We ran through the grounds of a church and into the woods. Upon exiting the woods we found trail on an asphalt path. The male FRBís came to a chick check and eagerly waited. First P Fart, then BOB, then Puss n Boobs and not a single hint of skin. They did eventually find the correct path and within 200 yards we were at a second beer stop with the promised food. There was venison stew, Bamaís chocolate chip cookies, chips and what was advertised as Keyless Entries Quac dip. Now when I think about Quac I think ducks. Iím not sure Iím ready for duck dip but I was very happy with Keylessís most excellent guacamole dip.
Eventually the hares departed for the return and the pack followed. Once again we were confronted with a nipple check. Lucky for us Just Sara was quick on the scene. Horror of horrors what does she do but run straight through and search for true trail. What a huge disappointment that was! Overcome with grief the pack moped back to the bowling alley parking lot.
Circle honored the FRBís, Just John, Postage and Famous. DFLís included Just Colin and others. Backsliders were punished. Significant runs were recognized including the man of the hour Just Colin (10) who was on the verge of taking up permanent residence in the circle. Virgins were recognized. Since our lone female virgin Sandy had long since been scared away the remaining male virgins decided that in keeping with the food theme they would stage a sausage fest. Just Ben whipped out his weinersnitzle and Just Eric brandished his bratwurst. The harrietts squealed with delight while the harriers wretched violently. Once order was restored the Hashshit was awarded to Keyless for pissing on trail while watching porn through some strangerís window.
The final act of the evening was bestowing a name upon Just Colin. Given the resemblance to an Australian actor and wannabe rock star who appeared in a Roman epic Just Colin shall henceforth be know as GladHeAteHer. No sooner did the cheers subside when in true Russell Crowe fashion the cops arrived. They decided to stake out the parking lot effectively placing us under house arrest in the bowling alley bar. I hate it when that happens.
I heard from Just Sandy and she had a great time. She left because she had to be up at 3:30 a.m. Thursday. (ouch) She promises to stay for circle the next time.