27 February 2006
63. There's Shiggy Here?
Southern Comfort H3 - 24 Febeerary 2006
"Shiggy in Avondale Estates!!!" is the promise that drew us to the start Friday night. Shiggy and Avondale Estates are not normally words that are uttered together. Satellite imagery showed a couple promising areas, but being on the ground is a lot different than looking down on Earth from a satellite.
The start was at an abandoned office park near all the Dekalb County services buildings at Memorial and Kensington. The cast of characters in order of appearance were:
2 Crabs
Your Humble Scribe
Runs Down
Breast Stroke
Davey Crochet
Meow
Squid Dick
Dane Bramage
The Ghost of Everqueer
I took a wrong turn near the start and drove into the back lot of the Dekalb County Medical Examiner's office, where I drove right next to a van marked "Technical Body Recovery Team." Could this be a sign of things to come? Undaunted, I found the real start and disrobed to the delight of no one so I could put on hash gear. At the appointed time, we circled around a slightly hyper Runs Down, who informed us Meow would be bimboing, but not beer-meistering. But... but... where was our golden nectar? Apparently, Runs called Everqueer just moments before, and woke him up at the dorms, so our beer-meister would be joining us at the end. Pre-trail instructions included the quote of the evening: "There will be a couple danger signs, but I'm not going to lay them." With that logic firmly in place, our hare continued: "The dangerous parts will be REALLY obvious. If you get hurt, you're REALLY stupid." We tried to explain the group he was dealing with, but he was too nervous about trail and getting snared to care. On Out. We watched him struggle through the shiggy next to the parking lot's fence for a good minute and decided to give him five minutes from the point we couldn't see him anymore. Then he disappeared but we kept hearing him crash through the brush, so we decided to give him five minutes from the point we couldn't HEAR him anymore.
The pack left at the exact moment I realized I had forgotten my goggles, so I was a couple minutes behind everyone. (I would be glad I got them. More on that later.) I trudged through a foresty section for a while to the edge of a contruction site, and still didn't see anyone. There was a steep change in elevation here, and I decided to jump down. But it was dark, and since I didn't have anyone in front of me to gauge the earth below, I jumped blindly into mud that went up to my calves. There was much mental rejoicing.
I caught up with the pack at a check, located at the back of the Medical Examiner's office, so at least I had my bearings. Trail continued on assfault for a while, and almost as an apology for the road rage, Runs dipped us into an urban swamp. Yeah, he actually found a swamp here, and from what he told us later, it looked N.A.S.T.Y in the daylight. Well, that would explain the extreme blackness of my shoes, socks and feet when I changed at the end.
The briars started here. A lot of them. Big ones, thick ones, long ones... any type you can imagine. And they were still flexible, even in the winter, so you couldn't break through them. Arg. I swear to you I broke records for the number of times I got my cranium gear stuck on vines. I can only imagine how stupid I looked rotating around trying to free myself. More stupid than I normally look, obviously. We even saw some of those briar trees, which can even be scary to look at.
From the swamp, we did a lot of forest running in between homes and apartments. This is the great part about haring for a night crowd: You can find thin strips of shiggy and know the hounds will have a lot harder time realizing where they are. At one point, I noticed lights of an apartment complex and could almost hear Runs as he was scouting for this trail, letting out a bellowing, evil laugh. "Mwah hah hahhh... they will have no idea where they really are!"
Aren't water towers normally built on the highest points of an area? Well then, we hit one of the highest points of Dekalb, because we ran right next to a nice-sized monstrosity with the county's name beautifully scrawled across it, and the whole thing wasn't built up too high. Interesting.
The smell of pot greeted us as we ran toward a Marta stop. I don't remember which one, but I remember the large amount of stares we got as we all ran through the main section and into the parking lot. 2 Crabs got the first snare of the night at an apartment complex nearby, and we waited for the pack to reconvene before taking off once again. There was more shiggy here behind the complex, some weaving around a fence and one of several creek crossings. I also vaguely remember a large easement of some sort and a climb up a Hill of Death to a street above.
Apparently, Runs was getting tired, because the second snare seemed to occur not too long after the first one. We were on the tracks, and from what I was told, it is important to note these weren't the Marta tracks, since those carry quite a bit of electricity. As we were waiting our allotted time, we spied someone way off in the distance on the tracks, and knew right away it was Runs. His backpack busted not too far from where he had left us, and because he was getting so tired, he decided to go back and take the street to the end and save the longer, shiggier route for another trail.
Trail ended at in the front yard of Runs' house, and we were treated to seeing him get drunk while he was running circle. Apparently, he lives in one of the coolest neighborhoods ever, because no one complained, even though we stayed out there for quite a while, shouting and loudly uttering the traditional SoCo hash song countless times. Circle ended with us naming Meow, who from now on and forever more be known as Furry Curry. Welcome to the hash, and thank you for being a such loyal bimbo.
Join us Friday to witness what Wine Ho will be torturing us with. Until then,
May the Hash Get a Piece
"Shiggy in Avondale Estates!!!" is the promise that drew us to the start Friday night. Shiggy and Avondale Estates are not normally words that are uttered together. Satellite imagery showed a couple promising areas, but being on the ground is a lot different than looking down on Earth from a satellite.
The start was at an abandoned office park near all the Dekalb County services buildings at Memorial and Kensington. The cast of characters in order of appearance were:
2 Crabs
Your Humble Scribe
Runs Down
Breast Stroke
Davey Crochet
Meow
Squid Dick
Dane Bramage
The Ghost of Everqueer
I took a wrong turn near the start and drove into the back lot of the Dekalb County Medical Examiner's office, where I drove right next to a van marked "Technical Body Recovery Team." Could this be a sign of things to come? Undaunted, I found the real start and disrobed to the delight of no one so I could put on hash gear. At the appointed time, we circled around a slightly hyper Runs Down, who informed us Meow would be bimboing, but not beer-meistering. But... but... where was our golden nectar? Apparently, Runs called Everqueer just moments before, and woke him up at the dorms, so our beer-meister would be joining us at the end. Pre-trail instructions included the quote of the evening: "There will be a couple danger signs, but I'm not going to lay them." With that logic firmly in place, our hare continued: "The dangerous parts will be REALLY obvious. If you get hurt, you're REALLY stupid." We tried to explain the group he was dealing with, but he was too nervous about trail and getting snared to care. On Out. We watched him struggle through the shiggy next to the parking lot's fence for a good minute and decided to give him five minutes from the point we couldn't see him anymore. Then he disappeared but we kept hearing him crash through the brush, so we decided to give him five minutes from the point we couldn't HEAR him anymore.
The pack left at the exact moment I realized I had forgotten my goggles, so I was a couple minutes behind everyone. (I would be glad I got them. More on that later.) I trudged through a foresty section for a while to the edge of a contruction site, and still didn't see anyone. There was a steep change in elevation here, and I decided to jump down. But it was dark, and since I didn't have anyone in front of me to gauge the earth below, I jumped blindly into mud that went up to my calves. There was much mental rejoicing.
I caught up with the pack at a check, located at the back of the Medical Examiner's office, so at least I had my bearings. Trail continued on assfault for a while, and almost as an apology for the road rage, Runs dipped us into an urban swamp. Yeah, he actually found a swamp here, and from what he told us later, it looked N.A.S.T.Y in the daylight. Well, that would explain the extreme blackness of my shoes, socks and feet when I changed at the end.
The briars started here. A lot of them. Big ones, thick ones, long ones... any type you can imagine. And they were still flexible, even in the winter, so you couldn't break through them. Arg. I swear to you I broke records for the number of times I got my cranium gear stuck on vines. I can only imagine how stupid I looked rotating around trying to free myself. More stupid than I normally look, obviously. We even saw some of those briar trees, which can even be scary to look at.
From the swamp, we did a lot of forest running in between homes and apartments. This is the great part about haring for a night crowd: You can find thin strips of shiggy and know the hounds will have a lot harder time realizing where they are. At one point, I noticed lights of an apartment complex and could almost hear Runs as he was scouting for this trail, letting out a bellowing, evil laugh. "Mwah hah hahhh... they will have no idea where they really are!"
Aren't water towers normally built on the highest points of an area? Well then, we hit one of the highest points of Dekalb, because we ran right next to a nice-sized monstrosity with the county's name beautifully scrawled across it, and the whole thing wasn't built up too high. Interesting.
The smell of pot greeted us as we ran toward a Marta stop. I don't remember which one, but I remember the large amount of stares we got as we all ran through the main section and into the parking lot. 2 Crabs got the first snare of the night at an apartment complex nearby, and we waited for the pack to reconvene before taking off once again. There was more shiggy here behind the complex, some weaving around a fence and one of several creek crossings. I also vaguely remember a large easement of some sort and a climb up a Hill of Death to a street above.
Apparently, Runs was getting tired, because the second snare seemed to occur not too long after the first one. We were on the tracks, and from what I was told, it is important to note these weren't the Marta tracks, since those carry quite a bit of electricity. As we were waiting our allotted time, we spied someone way off in the distance on the tracks, and knew right away it was Runs. His backpack busted not too far from where he had left us, and because he was getting so tired, he decided to go back and take the street to the end and save the longer, shiggier route for another trail.
Trail ended at in the front yard of Runs' house, and we were treated to seeing him get drunk while he was running circle. Apparently, he lives in one of the coolest neighborhoods ever, because no one complained, even though we stayed out there for quite a while, shouting and loudly uttering the traditional SoCo hash song countless times. Circle ended with us naming Meow, who from now on and forever more be known as Furry Curry. Welcome to the hash, and thank you for being a such loyal bimbo.
Join us Friday to witness what Wine Ho will be torturing us with. Until then,
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 4:09 PM 
