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SCH4 # 386 - 2nd Anal Talk-Like-A-Pirate Hash Thursday, September 17, 2005 Hares: BestBlow Ho Ho & a Bottle of Rum Little Boy Blue Beard Balls & the Una Wencher Location: Longworth Hall, Downtown Cincinnati, OH The car horn was blowing loud and long out on the street. I swore to myself I was going to kick some ass if they kept it up. It kept up. I went out the door in a mean spirit and found Crabs asleep, his head lying on the steering wheel. I woke him as I climbed in. “You know how to get to Longworth Hall? Is it in Ohio or Kentucky?” he asked. “Don’t kid me,” I said, “You know very well where it is. The Dock is there if I remember right.” Crabs kept up this “I don’t know how to get there” business all the way from Newport. We pulled into the parking lot by the Ohio River and there were the hashers all the way at the back, clustered under the railroad overpass. Oh, we’ve got some natural pirates in the SCH4 hash. The black leather, poofy white shirts, hoop earrings, and bandanas look so good, and so natural on so many people, including the ladies. The pack milled about eyeing each others costumes. Some like me, had just hit the local thrift store, bought something cheap, shredded it and called ourselves ready. Others had dug out a credit card, drove to the costume stores, painted on a few scars, looked in the mirror and were satisfied. As usual, the quiet IMG went over-the-top with his costume. In addition to his Long Dong Silver pirate costume, he was carrying a 5 foot long plywood scimitar, made in his father’s garage. The damn thing looked good but probably weighed about 10 lbs. The boy is asking for a keelhauling. Our pirate hares today were the UnaWencher, hot in pirate dress but also wearing a fetching black velvet tricorner hat with feathers, Best Blow-Ho-Ho, looking very natural in his costume and makeup, and Cannonball Blue, who looked like he’d just stepped off the Nina, docked across the river. The only thing all three lacked was the smell of the briny deep. The pack was called together, virgins and visitors introduced and the usual marks were demonstrated. Something different, an NN was also demonstrated. Hmmmm, could that be a Nina Near? The rangers looked at each other and nodded – yes we were probably going to Kentucky today since the Nina was docked quayside in Covington. Silver doubloons were to be scattered along the trail with prizes to the awarded later. The hares were off and the pack settled into a rousing Father Abraham – heavy on the r-r-r-r-r-r. During the sing-along, an engineer slowed his train, blew his horn and waved down to the pack from the railroad overpass. The collective décolletage must have been what caught his eye. I envied him. After 10 minutes, the pack was off. Running north, I found myself alongside the every-plucky Waxy, wearing black knee-high leather boots – with heels. She explained that she’d worn them for a virgin that hadn’t shown up and she was going to run in them anyway. There was a long YBF to the west, then trail looped back and came very close to where we started. (Una swore the trail was live so this was pretty risky haring.) True trail went east but then broke south to run along the river. Most of the rangers, me, Crabs, and Gimp included defied logic and went north, then east. Upon not finding trail, we sorrowfully headed south to the suspension bridge. From our vantage point on the bridge we could see down along the river where the pack was threading their way along the railroad track. “Beer Near,” the call coming up from the bushes and trees below us. The BN was down on the old landing – scene of many a rowdy party by the flat boaters, steamboat pursers, porters, and maybe Mark Twain once or twice. By the time we got down there, the pack had forced the lock on the chained cooler and was helping themselves to grog and ale. The hares, hiding in the bushes, came out protesting that we were supposed to use a treasure map to find a buried pirate chest with a key that would have opened the lock. It was a nice idea but they should have had a better lock. The hares stayed for a few beers, some picture taking, and then skedaddled, running back up to Pete Rose Way. Five minutes later we saw Cannonball Blue running onto the Suspension Bridge above us and slinging flour. We waited for the required mooning, but Blue wasn’t showing his butt today. This crime was noted for punishment later. (Did you know that the suspension bridge was built to allow the steamboats of the day to pass under without taking down their stacks? Also, when it was built, the then-powerful ferry lobby forced the bridge to be built so that it didn’t have direct access to Vine Street. Nothing changes in Sincinnati.) The pack soon followed and some of us found ourselves back up on the Suspension Bridge. Golden Showers and Fourgasm ran all the way across and back looking for flour. “Nothing here,” they cried. Once again behind the pack, we turned and ran north to 4th Street looking for trail. In an effort to snare the hares, we tried to cleave the Octoberfest crowd on 6th Street but were slowed and finally reduced to walking. It took us 30 minutes to go 5 blocks. Gourmet’s pirate wig looked like a small groundhog wearing a pirate hat, hanging onto his head. We hacked our way through the crowds north to 7th Street where we found the pack and hares heading towards the 2nd BN at Tina’s. (True trail had run around the Octoberfest celebration and I heard there were supposed to be some photo op’s that didn’t work because wise security guards wouldn’t let them into the buildings.) The pack, in full showoff mode, chose to run back through Octoberfest. IMG led the way holding his giant sword above his head. The crowd, momentarily confused by the costumes (“But, why are they dressed like pirates?”) shouted encouragement after us as we ran through blowing our whistles. The atmosphere in Tina’s was as hot and dark as below decks of any galleon that ever sailed the Dry Tortugas in July. Lots of beer was swilled in true pirate fashion. IMG, in his element, shouted many times for the pack to shut the fuck up but then had nothing to say. When the rest of the pack, sans walkers, had been collected, we ran the 3 blocks to the Head First bar. Many detoured to the start of today’s hash to get their clothes and cars. (The last time I was at Head First, some virgin harriettes took off their panties and danced on top of the bar. That might have happened this time, but they waited until after I left.) The pack didn’t circle up for about an hour while cars were fetched, clothes were changed, makeup removed, etc. Deadly inertia was setting in when the pack was finally called together. Butt Digger had fallen prostrate on the floor amid large piles of peanut shells and cups full of beer were placed within her reach. The pack made the hares walk the beer plank many, many times. Quarter Barrel had about 5 pages of crimes and it took about an hour of the circle’s time to go over them and mete out justice. (Never give an engineer a pad of paper and pencil and ask him to find flaws. Next time give this wanker a 3x5 card and a big crayon.) The pack dutifully followed the hares off the beer plank many, many times too. Finally we reached the “Has anyone drunk not else yet?” stage of slurrage. Y=Pi and Dar Gimpster won for best costume and 3-Way Time for being the biggest doubloon whore. The prizes were some really nice bottles of imported ale. Two bottles were stolen – this was a pirate hash after all. (When I opened mine, it blew all over the place and I only got one swallow and had to clean the floor.) (Did anyone else spot 3-Way Time running in the background of the latest Skyline commercial? This has got to be a crime.) We all had a great time and I look forward to the 3rd Anal Pirate Hash. Attendees: 38 Special Aching Ass Beat It Best Blow Curdled Cum Dah Gimp Dick The Phone Eatapus Famunda Fourgasm Golden Showers Got Crabs? Gourmet Hot Tub Slut Hot Wax Me Officer Hyper Hand Job I'm Not Gay Katie NHN Orr Kremey In The Middle Little Boy Blue Balls Neon Knockers Panty Remover Poo Packer Quarter Barrel Sandy NHN Shackleford Short 'n Sassy Soggy Sparks Son of a Nun Sucks But Doesn't Swallow Teflon The Unalicker Three Way Time Tight Box Too Obsessed for Sex Whistle In My Pants Y=Pi Analversaries: Soggy Sparks 15 Eatapus 20 Three Way Time 30 Fourgasm 80 Beat It 230 Dah Gimp 275 Hot Tub Slut 325 |