Hares: Coffee Bean and Crip Teaser
Start: Powell Juvenile Justice Centre, 395 Pryor St, Atlanta 30315
A fine afternoon for an urban hash trail. With virgins present Bean gave the usual run down of hare marks by omitting all of the ones that are actually used and concentrating on pointing out which ones wouldn’t be appearing on trail. Bean got a verbal slapping and handed over to Crip Teaser who adeptly finished him off.
Skin Flute Pie held up proceedings by arriving late. No one was too keen on running until she appeared laden with the beer.
Hounds released, the pack stormed off in search of scent and I have absolutely no idea at all where we were or where we went. I just did my best to keep up and managed pretty well until the trail took us over towards some railway tracks and then actually underneath some stationary rolling stock. A kind Hasher held a mesh fence open for me to squeeze through and then some metres up the trail I blinked and lost the pack completely. Turning around it was just Portuguese Water Dog and I left pecking around wondering where the trail went. And that pretty much set the tone for the rest of the run.
PWD and I would hit flour, start to run again and after five or six marks the trail would mysteriously vanish once more, leaving us to wander around in circles trying to pick up the scent, before defeatedly returning to the last sighting and spreading out police search style.
Use of flour was generally subtle, but then sometimes it seemed like a new bag had been cracked open and flung around enthusiastically. The “on overs” were always such a work of art.
One “on over” arrow totally confounded us and had us cursing trying to find the onward trail, until on returning to take a closer look PWD noticed that it was somewhat limp and perhaps it was meandering a little to the right rather than pointing straight ahead. Gah!
Running over by the Georgia Dome we were swamped by tourists obliterating the pavement with feet and unfortunately our best guess at where the trail went turned out to be incorrect once more. It was only thanks to Oand5’s helpful guiding chalking that we realised that the Hash had diverted from the street and headed down into the Marta station. His blue tags saved the day again when we rode the escalator down and were confronted by a lady sweeping the station clean of debris. I could have just hugged him had he been in sight.
Ever onwards we trudged and through the NeuroScience convention at the Congress Centre we stumbled. At some point we got to the BS which should have indicated Beer Stop, but in reality for us it meant Bull Shit because preceding Hashers and Hares were long gone. We ran through Centennial Park and through all sorts of weird urban negative spaces. Later at the Down Down PWD was to exclaim that “there were more hobos on trail than dust!” In fact, some were nicely helpful and pointed us in the direction of hasher sightings as if they were guiding planes in to land.
Eventually PWD and I had just lost trail again when the heavens called to us and we were regaled by the sound of Hashers yelling at us from above, accompanied by a shower of beer. The end was in sight and a very welcome lift took us to the top of a multistorey car park where the rest of the pack awaited with cheers as we charged out of the lift and sprinted to the finish. Apparently a search party had been sent out for us, and we were accused of having “sex on trail.”
About twenty minutes later Coffee Bean and another Hasher (the search party) returned, faces stuffed with Taco Bell. They’d obviously been searching really hard! They were also merrily tootling along in a two seater sports car so I’m not sure what they’d have done had they found us…waved toodleloo and driven onwards?!
PWD and I ended up having to do a Down Down for being the last hashers home, and another for taking the lift to the finish. Blast!
Coffee Bean didn’t fare so well either. He made the mistake of wearing brand new trainers to the Hash and so had to forfeit by filling one shoe with beer and downing it in one.