05 November 2005
45. Russian Roulette-Lite
Southern Comfort H3 - 10 Decembeer 2004
The way I see it, Southern Comfort is like Russian Roulette-Lite. There’s a sense of exhilaration while you’re playing, but it can easily blow up in your face. I had a lot of time to think about this before the hash Friday, since I live 42 miles from the start. Will the trail suck? Will the hare get us lost? Will I get my own self lost and be the next victim to wonder around aimlessly in the dark while everyone else is doing down-downs in circle? It’s that Pays-Your-Money-Takes-Your-Chances mentality that keeps me cumming back.
It was exactly 7p when I pulled into the start, and of course, it was already dark. Surly “The Ho” Temple was our hare for the evening, and he was alternating between jumping in place and adding layers of clothes, partly to keep warm, and partly to energize himself up for whatever type of trail he was going to torture us with. I had no choice but to wonder if tonight was going to be ugly. First off, there was talk about last week’s hash, where no one solved the first check. Then, I thought back to the hare, who just months before, had been on Hare Probation.
The Ho left the Ho(me Depot) parking lot at 7:30p, with just 4 1/2 hours of pathetic, underage life remaining. A good-sized pack had assembled to wish him a happy birthday, and we were glad to take off after our five minute wait so we could warm up. We took a short trek west to one of the night’s many downed fences and ended up heading north, up the side of I-75. Near exit 221, for any of you interested in knowing. Exit two-“21”. Get it? The crafty hare did this on purpose.
We entered the shiggy at some point, and found a check near a tunnel. Some of the hares automatically dove in the creek and ran under the interstate. Others hung around waiting. The smart ones found out that trail did not go under I-75, and kept trudging north. This was where we encountered our first swamp of the evening. Because it had been raining so much, the swamps were high. But hey, don’t get the idea that they smelled any better than they normally do. The water was not as cold as we thought it was going to be, and without drainage, there were some parts that smelled just as foul as they do in the summer.
Even some of the non-swampy parts of trail were muddy and wet, and we were pleased with the muck, as well as with the adequate amount of markings the hare was laying. At about the half-way point, we popped out of the shiggy and hit the road at what I guessed was close to the start. A quick street crossing led us to a large area of tall grass and a check. Soon after was a large area of thick, chest-high bamboo, with briars weaving their way underneath. For those of us who didn’t follow true trail at this point, navigating our way through this mess turned out to be quite a chore. From what my half-mind can remember, we hit two more swamps, the last one being the worst (best?). By the time we got to the On-In, I was drenched up to my stomach.
Who lost out on Russian Roulette-Lite this evening? Our fearless leader Harelips. He boxed the wrong way and did his best to find trail before giving up. The Clits, who drove down for circle and to wish the hare a happy birthday, picked up our RA at the start and drove him to the end. There was much rejoicing as we all gathered for circle, where we gave three Virgins their Special Brew. This might be a good time to thank the “out of towners”: Tink and Cheaper, your loyalty is appreciated. Of course, the notable down-down of the evening was for The Ho, who was not only turning into a man, but proved his manliness with a quality trail. Nice work, sir.
Do you want your Happy Hour to be cold, dark and wet? Join us next Friday, December 17th, when Lemon Nads turns us all into dirty, giggling masochists.
Until next time,
On Out
The way I see it, Southern Comfort is like Russian Roulette-Lite. There’s a sense of exhilaration while you’re playing, but it can easily blow up in your face. I had a lot of time to think about this before the hash Friday, since I live 42 miles from the start. Will the trail suck? Will the hare get us lost? Will I get my own self lost and be the next victim to wonder around aimlessly in the dark while everyone else is doing down-downs in circle? It’s that Pays-Your-Money-Takes-Your-Chances mentality that keeps me cumming back.
It was exactly 7p when I pulled into the start, and of course, it was already dark. Surly “The Ho” Temple was our hare for the evening, and he was alternating between jumping in place and adding layers of clothes, partly to keep warm, and partly to energize himself up for whatever type of trail he was going to torture us with. I had no choice but to wonder if tonight was going to be ugly. First off, there was talk about last week’s hash, where no one solved the first check. Then, I thought back to the hare, who just months before, had been on Hare Probation.
The Ho left the Ho(me Depot) parking lot at 7:30p, with just 4 1/2 hours of pathetic, underage life remaining. A good-sized pack had assembled to wish him a happy birthday, and we were glad to take off after our five minute wait so we could warm up. We took a short trek west to one of the night’s many downed fences and ended up heading north, up the side of I-75. Near exit 221, for any of you interested in knowing. Exit two-“21”. Get it? The crafty hare did this on purpose.
We entered the shiggy at some point, and found a check near a tunnel. Some of the hares automatically dove in the creek and ran under the interstate. Others hung around waiting. The smart ones found out that trail did not go under I-75, and kept trudging north. This was where we encountered our first swamp of the evening. Because it had been raining so much, the swamps were high. But hey, don’t get the idea that they smelled any better than they normally do. The water was not as cold as we thought it was going to be, and without drainage, there were some parts that smelled just as foul as they do in the summer.
Even some of the non-swampy parts of trail were muddy and wet, and we were pleased with the muck, as well as with the adequate amount of markings the hare was laying. At about the half-way point, we popped out of the shiggy and hit the road at what I guessed was close to the start. A quick street crossing led us to a large area of tall grass and a check. Soon after was a large area of thick, chest-high bamboo, with briars weaving their way underneath. For those of us who didn’t follow true trail at this point, navigating our way through this mess turned out to be quite a chore. From what my half-mind can remember, we hit two more swamps, the last one being the worst (best?). By the time we got to the On-In, I was drenched up to my stomach.
Who lost out on Russian Roulette-Lite this evening? Our fearless leader Harelips. He boxed the wrong way and did his best to find trail before giving up. The Clits, who drove down for circle and to wish the hare a happy birthday, picked up our RA at the start and drove him to the end. There was much rejoicing as we all gathered for circle, where we gave three Virgins their Special Brew. This might be a good time to thank the “out of towners”: Tink and Cheaper, your loyalty is appreciated. Of course, the notable down-down of the evening was for The Ho, who was not only turning into a man, but proved his manliness with a quality trail. Nice work, sir.
Do you want your Happy Hour to be cold, dark and wet? Join us next Friday, December 17th, when Lemon Nads turns us all into dirty, giggling masochists.
Until next time,
On Out
# posted by L&F @ 6:21 PM 
