Cliff BangHer & Bama Mate @ Ballwin
Hash Trash: Big Hump hash #599. As Huggy Bear aptly named it – “The 600th Eve Hash”….ya know, like Christmas Eve….well, I thought it was clever.
Pre-circle activities started early as Just Jen’s stuff was moved into her new swinging bachelorette pad. Boy were my arms tired. The Hash moved outside to acclimate our bodies to the cold temps… it was a little blustery but not bad. Of course PMS thought is was bad enough that she had to get into her car with the engine running to warm up. While inside, I’m sure heckling the shivering hashers standing around her car, Urine provided a moon kiss to her window. And suddenly there was a mysterious trail of liquid flowing from under her car…..WTF?! Cliff Bangher, being a curious, answer-finder type of person, proceeded to bend down, dip his fingers in the liquid….AND TASTE IT! A wise man once said, there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Cliff declared it to be nothing but soda and we took his word for it. I had a feeling this incident would be remembered during hash shit nominations. I mean, if Do My Butt gets hash shit for eating shelled peanuts off the ground, this incident would certainly qualify. I made a mental note – don’t eat or taste things off the ground if you don’t want hash shit.
Meta circled us up in the parking lot to give Just Jen’s new neighbors an inkling of what life would be like with their new neighbor. Our hares for the day were Bama Mate and Cliff Bangher. It appeared we would have a nice leisurely trail as no check backs were threatened during chalk talk. But wait…there would be a turkey/eagle split and the hares could only stress the phrase “be careful on the eagle trail.” I hate it when the hares say that. Just like a 3rd grade field trip, the buddy system was encouraged.
Meta blessed the hares and they immediately took off…up a hill. Hills would become a theme. We were in Valley Park, and the laws of geology, physics and gravity dictate that in order to have a valley, you must also find hills. We were on-out, up the hill and immediately confronted with a confusing check at the busy 2-lane road. Walkers and runners spread out, dodged cars, jumped barricades, called “Are You?” above the den of traffic noise…it was a humorous scene I’m sure.
Finally we found the true trail across the road and began the run in earnest through a nice park. It was a fun trail so far with great checks, hidden blow jobs on tennis courts and more hills. Out of the park and through a neighborhood – with a HUGE hill and back into another park. And then the promised turkey/eagle split….which most of the hash missed. We were almost to the Meramac River and suddenly I found myself alone on the eagle trail at the top of a hill….hey, wait…what happened to the buddy system damnit?
The rest of the hash had found a hash halt by a little place called Cheers. We were all confused by the placement of the hash halt….was this part of the turkey or the eagle? I described the check I found back on the eagle trail at the top of the hill and the hash decided to investigate as a group. After much searching and no finding of the trail beyond the check, we decided to go back to Cheers hash halt. If we couldn’t find the trail from there, well, Cheers was a bar, so….it seemed like a good plan. Cliff later admitted that the hash halt was thrown down at the last minute because the hash had almost caught the hares.
Across the highway and on-in to the beer stop by the red caboose. Hey, it’s a Do My Butt sighting! While enjoying a beverage fresh as a mountain stream, Just Dawn’s offspring Just Nicholas began to enlighten the hash on many topics. A name-calling contest between Just Nicholas and DMB began…I tried to warn Just Nicholas that he had met his match in this instance. I didn’t see the final score, but my money was on DMB…her acerbic wit is seemingly depthless. Just Nicholas also told us a little known secret about the fairer sex….according to him, girls have cooties, particularly in their booties. I’m not making this up…he said, and I quote, “Girls have cooties in their booties.” He said it many times, with much conviction. I’m not sure what it means exactly, being a pretty innocent and pure person, but I made a mental note nonetheless. Wisdom from 8 year olds…isn’t America great? Quick tangent -- I’ve made many mental notes since I began hashing in September. I could probably write a book.
The hares took off again after promising the next part of trail would include much shiggy. Just Jen did a great “redneck” impression …ask her to do that impression next time you see her, it was good…and we were off again. After crossing a train bridge on the tracks hoping with fervor that a train did not come along, we followed the trail down into the shiggy. Slopping through the mud and bramble bushes, Just Jen – being the only harriette still in the group of eagle trail hashers – said “If Cliff put a chick check here I’m going to be pissed.” Sure enough, as we emerged from the shiggy into a clearing the hash had halted at a chick check. Just Jen made the swift and sure decision to opt for flashing rather than checking. Alas, I was the only hasher BEHIND her at the time. You’d think she could have waited a few more seconds for me to get in front with the rest of the hash, but no….access was denied for yours truly.. FUCK! Ass Backwards rubbed salt in the wound by continually describing just how glorious a sight it was. Yeah, well, those are the breaks.
Out of the shiggy and back to the streets, we realized we were about 2 miles from and 200 feet elevation below the on-in. And so began the “not so fun part” of the trail. Up a hill….up another hill….dodge the oncoming traffic….up another hill….a FLAT PART, woohoo!….up another effing hill…..geezus. The only fun thing on this part of the trail was a simple gesture that brought warm fuzzies to even the most jaded of hashers. A “RIP” was laid with flour by a dead squirrel. AWWWW….the hares are sensitive, empathetic types….who knew?
Finally the on-in back at the condo complex. Dick Smoker joined us, and Meta circled the hash. Leftover shooters were passed around as we waived at Just Jen’s new neighbors. While I’m sure they were more than a little disconcerted with the sight of a group of people in the parking lot with white stuff on their noses, chins and lips, none apparently called the authorities on us. Hash shit nominations were handed out….Cliff for the aforementioned taste test and for text messaging his woman while laying an active trail, Just Jen for the aforementioned chick check incident, PMS for dressing like a hobo, Huggy Bear because..well, because he’s Huggy Bear, and next thing you know the entire hash was in the circle with a nomination. The circle had become a group hug. Is that the first time the entire hash had been nominated for hash shit? Cliff Bangher won in a landslide.
We moved back inside for pizza and a couple namings. Just Jen regaled us with tales of Disengagement and we came up with many options for a hash name. Jenny’s Crab Shack was voted down, and she was christened Pump Up The Volume. Apparently she once had relations on the control board in the studio of a local radio station…while on the air! I’ll never listen to the radio the same way.
Now it was Just Bryant’s turn. We were told many interesting things about Just Bryant. For instance, he is Phillipino. Huh….who’da thunk it? He also mentioned that someone at some point in his life told him he was hung like a light switch. Personally, I wouldn’t have revealed that tidbit, but then, I’m the same dumbass who admitted to having crabs once as a wild teenager, so what do I know. But, as anyone who hashes with Big Hump regularly knows, Just Bryant is most infamous for having the most consistent hashing outfit of anyone. He ALWAYS wears the wife-beater shirt with the red stripe, the shorts with a red stripe and his running shoes have a red stripe. In the end, it just seemed natural…and he was christened Red Stripe. I think it would be a great tradition if he arrived at all future hashes with a bottle of Red Stripe beer to imbibe prior to trail. It will bring to mind the warm, sunny beaches of Jamaica, mon…especially during Winter hashes when we’re all freezing our bagettes off.
Congratulations to Pump Up The Volume and Red Stripe. And thanks to Pump for hosting us. I hope you find your broom. (For legal reasons, I’m not allowed to elaborate on that one).
All in all, it was just another shitty trail.
Ricky’s Crab Shack