Well, the much a do about the 2012 Freedom Hash is over; all but finding those who missed it, drying our shoes, and ridding lots of hashers who attended of a severe case of lysteria, Campylobacteriosis, Leptospirosis, but more than likely, Hymenolepiasis.
The trail, or as it turned out, a goat-screw circus, began at 2831 Waterfront Pkwy, on Indy's Westside and with more than 30 hashers present; including out-of-towners who thought it was going to be awesome. So much for thinking, huh?
Returner and former RA Oral Persuasion led the blessing of the hares, Money$hot and Salad Tosser, while the rest of the hashers continued to prelube as we basked in the more than 100 degree temperatures.
After more than 15 minutes of stretching, lubing and lathering, we were off and on trail with most everyone walking. The trail followed along shore of the 25 acre lake past an office park where we encountered an unending minefield of stale, green goose turds. If this wasn't enough to send you back to your car and out of there in search of a better trail, something else out there would!
At the intersection of Waterfront and Highway 136 we encountered our first check; it was a visitor's check, meaning the check had to be solved by a visitor. A whistle-less Kotek sprinted west along 136 while the others held back wondering if he was on trail, or had just finally had enough and decided to do a Forest Gump. Curiosity gained on the remaining pack which then followed a moist and sweaty Kotex at varying levels of speed.
At the bridge over Eagle Creek, the trail jumped down under the bridge through a forest of prickly honey locust trees. Poopsicle was the first to be impaled by one, but she fought on. It was also under this bridge that a poorly placed boob check was missed; ah the mammeries!
Once underneath the bridge at the rivers' edge, it seemed that that the trail was going across Eagle Creek, as well as UP Eagle Creek! And so for what seemed like a mile, us poor hashers waded in water, at some levels neck high, while stumbling, or hopefully not stumbling over massive boulders that were hidden beneath the surface of the water. Several hashers lost their balance and their cigarettes in this debacle, and of course there was much swearing at the hares who probably sat comfortably in the air conditioning of Salad Tossers car swapping hand jobs at the beer check. The fear of catching "yet another" STD from this water was also very real, even if we didn't hang close to Butt-Chugg, who carried his virgin on his back during this slumber through the stream.
This "water crossing" was certainly something that none of us in attendance will soon forget. The water was deep, and treacherous, but the heat of the day made the experience bearable. Blister in the Sun demonstrated a whorish level of chivalry by guiding Lady Closet Fag through this, while Donkey Punch and the soon-to-be-named Just Larry Punch followed in their wake. Brokeback Belcher would not be deterred and she swam upstream, while your narrator Jewbacca causally walked on the water.
And the kilts, did we mention this was a kilt hash? These bitches need to be dry cleaned, pressed, ironed, and stored with our other unmentionables. Now they were wet and stinky and abraded the wounds on our legs as we hobbled out of the water onto a road where we met a Turtle Check, which is to be treated as a re-group.
From here we were led south along the road until far off in the distance a whistle sounded along with the cry, "Beer Near" and everyone picked up the pace and ran where we were greeted by a dry Kotex, who obviously cut trail, but was eagerly handing out free Funyun snacks.
The beer check provided plenty of ice-cold Hamms beer, water, oreos and orange poofy snacks that created a brilliant orange hue on the mouths of those who consumed it. The beer check also provided a stench of ungodly maginatude! It was a funk so noxious even Manspanks became queezy. Some fisherman, probably a friend of Camotow had gone a`fishen for cat and had left half of his chicken gut bait for the maggots to consume, as well as the hashers to savor.
As the minutes ticked away, some of us worried if we'd make it to the pool before the 9pm deadline and there was serious discussion about abandoning trail, but nah, that would not happen.
With the beer check closing and Hare Salad Tosser driving away, we hurried back along the shores of big lake, through the goose turd-ladden mine field, and circled up. Salad Tosser led a festive circle with hash crimes handed out with fair mediation, visitors LaDrone, Proboner and Kotex singing "Dixie", the indoctrination of virgins brought by Manspank, and birthdays.
Unbeknownst to us, the little people of Oz, the apartments next to the parking lot, hid nearby in the shiggy watching and listening to our circle. And as all of us were packing up and forming a hash parade leading to Casa de Salad, the little one's all sang out in harmony, "Happy Birthday, Phuck You!" Did anyone else hear that??
On after was held at Salad Tosser's and we had the best food ever, it was almost like a Blooming Fools on after! Grilled egg plant, along with freshly made coleslaw, grilled corn on the cob, fresh potatoes, and the main course of pulled pork; it was all devoured and loved by all. Props to Gutterballs who came to the on-after with fresh and dry cigarettes, he saved the day!!!
Three namings took place last night and this was led by Donkey Punch, who took plenty of notes and asked many good questions. Lady Closet Fag did the announcing of the new names with much fanfair!
First up was Just Larry, a special person to Donkey Punch, as well as a veterinary pharmaceutical sales rep, and die-hard fan of Marilyn Monroe. Just Larry is now named Some Like It Doggy Style.
Just Steve is a special friend to Homoerectus and he works in a bank. He's the mostly quiet guy whose been around a while, even attending Intrahash last summer. But because he works in a bank and probably has a giant sized wiener, Just Steve is now named Cockdeposit.
Just Will is another one of those special friends to someone named Spitvalve. Poor Just Will made a funny remark on facebook about the chronic manhole problems along Mass Ave. and he is now named Flaming Manhole, or just manhole for short.
Once the namings settled in on our new friends, it was decided that the time had arrived for some fence climbing, pool breaking-n-entering and skinny dipping. On All 4s, along with Spitvalve, Manhole, Cuntpunt, Manscape and Jewbacca, left Brokeback Belcher back at the apartment alone with a tray of corn cobs while we surreptitiously climbed the fence, disrobed, then slowly climbed into the pool and it was fun…..
No one screamed out, not one of us laughed so loudly that we were caught. We spent about 30 minutes in the pool before leaving back over the fence, and not one deuce was left, hashers behaving well, so nice.
Next hash is coming up, sign on up!