05 November 2005
37. And There Was Much Blowing
Atlanta H4/Pine Lake H3 - 21 August 2004
FRIDAY
The storm blew in quickly. And it was bad. For the first time in years, I looked at the violently swaying trees surrounding my house and imagined them falling over. The time that elapsed between the first drop and the downpour was about 15 seconds. A bolt of lightning hit nearby and the lights went out. I wondered how many people would be motoring up to Wui Wui’s house early. There was always the chance the storm wasn’t hitting that far north. Oh well, with the power out, there was no TV or Internet access to check the radar image. I stepped outside and flipped a coin. Heads, I’d drive up. Tails, I’d go to bed. More lightning. Tails. I saw the sheets of rain and thought of the weather report for the next day: More of the same. The river would be shiggy.
SATURDAY
There are several definitions of shiggy. One I’ve heard is “Anything that impedes your progress toward the beverage of choice [BEER!]” As it turns out, we had nothing to worry about on the day of the second anal Shoot the Hooch Hash. I got to the drop zone to find helpful hounds putting 25 cases of beer into coolers. The sound of an air compressor let us know people were making quick work of the Blowing of the Tubes. And yeah, quick blowing was needed. The pack would grow to more than 90 people before we launched.
I looked around at all the beautiful people milling around at the drop zone and realized this was an Event. Someone said it only took the organizers about 2 hours to get everyone from Wui Wui’s house and into the water. Wow. Did they order the sun, too? Because, despite the grim warning from the previous day, The Biggest Ball in the Solar System was shining brightly as we took leave of land.
For those who were at the on-augural Shoot the Hooch last year, you will remember about 25 drunk people attended. So for a visual image of this year, you'd have to quadruple everything. One of the coolest things to do was to get to the front of the pack and look back upstream. The mass of imbibing hounds on their tubes and other floatation devices was classic. Some were tied together, making floating Party Islands. About 600 beer cans were making their way down the Chattahoochee, and the hounds did a very decent job of cutting that number down.
Oh, and it wasn’t just beer. There were also delights like shooters, margaritas and injectable jello shots. By the time the sun disappeared behind the clouds at about the three-hour mark, almost everyone had a quality buzz. The clouds opened up just as a homeowner’s rope swing was being put to good use by some very acrobatic lushes. If you’ve ever seen it rain really hard on a river or a lake, there’s only one way I can describe it. If I may use the “A” word around hashers, it’s Visually Arresting. But it seems that some of the pack would have done without the storm, because even though the rain stopped before we got to the On In, they were shivering as they made their way back up to Wui Wui’s house and an emergency shower.
For the rest of the evening, everything was pretty much a blur, with things going on everywhere. Tent areas, circles of camp chairs, groups of people out in the street, Hash Circle, food, and the continued massive consumption of booze. There was no way to keep track of it all.
SUNDAY
I’m pretty sure Yucca came out before midnight, but who’s keeping track? Some tasty shooters had been making the rounds as well. Someone told me the Last People Standing were vertical until around 2:30a.
The morning was about as laid-back as the float, and included breakfast and some much-needed coffee. Hey, wait a minute. The event was only 12 bucks and there was still money for breakfast?
I’d like to announce that for the second year in the row, we did not run out of beer. On the river, or afterward. For that alone, I would like to thank the organizers for a job well done. And for everything else, of course. I only have one suggestion for next year: Can we do it again?
Until Next Time,
On Out
FRIDAY
The storm blew in quickly. And it was bad. For the first time in years, I looked at the violently swaying trees surrounding my house and imagined them falling over. The time that elapsed between the first drop and the downpour was about 15 seconds. A bolt of lightning hit nearby and the lights went out. I wondered how many people would be motoring up to Wui Wui’s house early. There was always the chance the storm wasn’t hitting that far north. Oh well, with the power out, there was no TV or Internet access to check the radar image. I stepped outside and flipped a coin. Heads, I’d drive up. Tails, I’d go to bed. More lightning. Tails. I saw the sheets of rain and thought of the weather report for the next day: More of the same. The river would be shiggy.
SATURDAY
There are several definitions of shiggy. One I’ve heard is “Anything that impedes your progress toward the beverage of choice [BEER!]” As it turns out, we had nothing to worry about on the day of the second anal Shoot the Hooch Hash. I got to the drop zone to find helpful hounds putting 25 cases of beer into coolers. The sound of an air compressor let us know people were making quick work of the Blowing of the Tubes. And yeah, quick blowing was needed. The pack would grow to more than 90 people before we launched.
I looked around at all the beautiful people milling around at the drop zone and realized this was an Event. Someone said it only took the organizers about 2 hours to get everyone from Wui Wui’s house and into the water. Wow. Did they order the sun, too? Because, despite the grim warning from the previous day, The Biggest Ball in the Solar System was shining brightly as we took leave of land.
For those who were at the on-augural Shoot the Hooch last year, you will remember about 25 drunk people attended. So for a visual image of this year, you'd have to quadruple everything. One of the coolest things to do was to get to the front of the pack and look back upstream. The mass of imbibing hounds on their tubes and other floatation devices was classic. Some were tied together, making floating Party Islands. About 600 beer cans were making their way down the Chattahoochee, and the hounds did a very decent job of cutting that number down.
Oh, and it wasn’t just beer. There were also delights like shooters, margaritas and injectable jello shots. By the time the sun disappeared behind the clouds at about the three-hour mark, almost everyone had a quality buzz. The clouds opened up just as a homeowner’s rope swing was being put to good use by some very acrobatic lushes. If you’ve ever seen it rain really hard on a river or a lake, there’s only one way I can describe it. If I may use the “A” word around hashers, it’s Visually Arresting. But it seems that some of the pack would have done without the storm, because even though the rain stopped before we got to the On In, they were shivering as they made their way back up to Wui Wui’s house and an emergency shower.
For the rest of the evening, everything was pretty much a blur, with things going on everywhere. Tent areas, circles of camp chairs, groups of people out in the street, Hash Circle, food, and the continued massive consumption of booze. There was no way to keep track of it all.
SUNDAY
I’m pretty sure Yucca came out before midnight, but who’s keeping track? Some tasty shooters had been making the rounds as well. Someone told me the Last People Standing were vertical until around 2:30a.
The morning was about as laid-back as the float, and included breakfast and some much-needed coffee. Hey, wait a minute. The event was only 12 bucks and there was still money for breakfast?
I’d like to announce that for the second year in the row, we did not run out of beer. On the river, or afterward. For that alone, I would like to thank the organizers for a job well done. And for everything else, of course. I only have one suggestion for next year: Can we do it again?
Until Next Time,
On Out
# posted by L&F @ 6:08 PM 
