We came, we saw, we kicked this hash.
OK. Not really.
A baker's dozen of diehards showed up to weather the....er, um, weather. We were blessed with having PMS as our RA for the evening so every indication was that the circle would be short since we know how much she likes the cold.
Our hare, Lock Nut Monster, gave us a brief chalk talk which included a new "guideline" called the the trial by down-down beer halt. Sounded complicated. Madame RA blessed the hare and he was off....no, wait, he screwed around for 5 of his 15 minutes and then took off. How silly of me to forget that.
I've been on enough LN trails to know that they'll be long and physically demanding....that's just the turkey trail. For those that took the fully live eagle trail, my condolescences. Anyway, the turkeys wandered across Telegraph and into the Dierberg's parking lot. I didn't know a parking lot could encompass half of the turkey trail but it sure did seem that way. We sloshed through the show (and lost the trail), over tie walls (thought we had lost the trail), through the parking lot (didn't lose the trail), behind the store and up a beautiful sledding hill filled with teenagers and a FIREPIT when....we lost the trail.
First of all, who lays a trail of orange flour on top of the snow. I couldn't see it. He should have chosen blue, but hey, that's just my opinion. While we were trapped behind a fence for an hour looking for a trail, PMS mentioned that she had an inkling of where the beer stop was. So, we headed in that general direction only to pick up trail again. We wound through a subdivision for another two hours and six miles until we came to the entrance of Cliff Cave Park. And, what perfect timing with the hare getting there right as we ran up.
We trodded through the snow with our hare showing us the way. Everyone all but blew by the beer halt/trial by down-down and followed the hare to the beer stop. We enjoyed frosty tall boys for an eternity....but there were still no eagle runners amongst us. So we waited....and waited....and waited.
I think LN was getting worried and I know the pack was getting cold so we headed out and back to the start. We hadn't made it 30 feet when whistles were heard--it was ALPO! and Stinky. But, where were Whiney, relative newbie, Just Penny, and Cockring!?! Apparently, the eagles had enjoyed an impromptu beer stop at Stinky's sister's apartment. Lucky bastards got to warm their feet and fingers for a while, but that was also the last place that Whiney and Co. has been seen. Hmmm...what to do? A di-remma. Wait or go, wait or go. Fuck it, we went back to the start. It's only Whiney, after all. He's hashed before. He knows what to do....or so we thought.
Back to the start we went. Still no Whiney, Penny or Cockring. We got circle up and running. Madame RA was quick and efficient. Significant runs were announced, pints of lagers were given, crimes and accusations were received with libation and lauding, and then we came to hash shit. Those two words had barely been uttered when up come Whiney and Just Penny. Now, my mind could wander as to where they had really been for the past couple of hours, but it didn't....because it's Whiney. Whiney could offend the salt off of a peanut.
So, you wanna guess who got hash shit?
We swung-ro and then went inside Garvey's. The waitress managed to ignore me most of the night, but I'm used to that. On the up side, Whiney and I had a shot of Crown Royal to warm the sub-cockles.
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net