Hash 147 - Easter Comes Too Soon

We seem to be in a groove, so to speak, aptly matching hash dates to anniversaries of great consequence to space exploration. Make of that what you will, but I think I know a lot more about the feeling of zero gravity since I started hashing, so it feels relevant. The diligent Hasher will remember that Hash 146 was on the anniversary of Mariner 10 flying past Mercury, and 148, the Winery Hash, will fall on the somewhat less auspicious anniversary of NASA's Ranger 4 crashing into the moon in 1964.

Actual NASA photo of the 1964 incident.

Although hash 147 took place on the 37^th anniversary of Yuri Gagarin's flight in Vostok I – the first manned space-flight, and the first manned orbit around the earth, we chose to focus more on the fertility of egg-laying rabbits than on Yuri's trip because that obviously has so much more potential, and the promise of bunny outfits and egg hunts just seemed to align better with proper hash behavior.

The real reason Sir Sump Pump couldn't make it to the Hash.

And so we gathered at the lovely Estadio Corfo, where One Erection graciously procured us a covered outdoor picnic area complete with grill. Estadio Corfo is more a country club than a stadium as such. What's more, this particular one is still widely known by its previous name, Estadio Las Condes, and has an entrance that is unlabeled and not at the nominal street address, making the location challenging to find for first timers. It was a sporty adventure, and Hashers milled around the outside looking a bit like Monty Python's philosophers playing soccer, until the first one found the entrance and the rest quickly followed.

Proper mingling took place as we prepared to go off on our exciting adventure. Here we see more experienced Hashers hydrating in preparation for the arduous trail. 

As you can see, we are a devout bunch and quite set on respecting the delicate traditions of fertility and resurrection that this hash represents, so some of us wore plastic rabbit masks, ears, and other signs of devotion.

We briefly gathered in the traditional circle to go over strategy, trail markings, and such. We were graced on this occasion with a guest General Mismanager, Cumming Up for Air, an important part of Santiago H3 history and an experienced leader, who is visiting from down-over-to-the-left.

Virgins were introduced before setting off

And the hares, the lovely Scrum on my Face and Just Andres, explained the markings and vicissitudes of the trail.

Then then a warmup happened, led by our tireless Beer-Meister, BiWeekly Deposit.

Introductions out of the way, we took off on the trail laid by Scrum on My Face and Just Andrés. The wankers outnumbered the runners by a considerable margin, which was smart, given that there were literal Easter Eggs to be found along the trail and when you're looking down at your feet as you run, trees and cars have a way of jumping out in front of you.

...and that's how Easter Eggs are made.

We few runners failed to find a single egg. Considering the fact that we had a hare with us, and did our level best to corrupt him and have him spill the beans as to the location of these hidden gems, we failed pretty miserably. Not one egg, candied or otherwise was found by the runners. OTOH, the wankers did better. Strip, Minor! and Just Vicky both discovered proper eggs. Alas, the promised prize – a big luscious chocolate egg, had been mislaid, so to speak. Clearly Strip, Minor! and Just Vicky are owed.

Most survived the gently sloping trail with its promise of prizes and rewards. Once back at the ranch, we gathered and mingled while Veni VD Vici, in his capacity as Piss Pourer, set the stage, and then off to Circle. Virgins and those that made them come were tough-love rewarded for their efforts, while Reverse Cowgirl, the Shut-the-Fuck-Upper, enjoyed her gun a little too much!

The usual business was attended to. The trail was declared shitty. Good job, Scrum on my Face and Just Andres. Important business including some garage sales and announcements about English lessons out of the way, we found ourselves in a naming.

She quickly sheds anything that could soak up beer, demonstrating her wisdom in the ways of Namings

...but she took advice from, and trusted the wrong people. So now she must be a proper hasher. Here, your trusty RA explains that she might get a little wet & messy along the way.

"Well, just a little, right?" ... "Would I lie to you?" Do you notice Sir Cumming Up for Air preparing a little surprise behind her?

Welcome to the fold... Strip, Minor! thinks it's pretty funny!

Welcome, one & all, Spank my Pony. Your secrets are safe with us. We're proud to count you in our mystic ranks.

Once the circle was done, we had much grilled meat and hot sauce and plenty of beer, as usual, with the jokes getting funnier as the afternoon wore on. There was a bit of a wedding setting up near us, so we got bathed in the smoke of 2 lambs crucified and burned upright with arms spread - a very Jodorowski sort of scene.

A word of advice - If you're going to have a big fancy wedding at a country club on the same day as a Hash, don't leave cardboard cut-outs of the bride and groom unguarded around a bunch of perverse drunken Hashers while smoking them out with your burning meat. There's an awful lot of lewd selfies floating around the interwebs now of both the bride and groom giving and receiving unspeakable promiscuities with a whole series of random Hashers, it would appear. Just deserts for not moving the damned burning crucifixes ten feet over to avoid smoking out the quincho.

Once again, thanks for the organizational work to Prune, Bi-Weekly Deposit, Mariachi Masturbator, Sir Acting Semen, Moon Job, Sir Cumming Up for Air, and countless others who made this premature Easter Hash a success. We are resurrected, to Hash another day...

Hash 146 - Never Forget the Probe!

Of course we were all excited to celebrate the 40^th anniversary of the first beer-can to fly by Mercury, the red planet! Who doesn't love the image of a very large beer-can squirting propellant through outer space, the reddish hue of a Pale Ale, or better yet, an Irish Red Ale. We owe thanks to Veni VD Vici for graciously hosting the event at his building's quincho, which was suspiciously close to a stable orbital trajectory altitude and at least as cold once again, promoting the camaraderie and esprit de corps necessary to survive these little trials while making merry. To be fair, the RA is personally responsible for the cold, so no points lost for Veni VD Vici.

After a brief introduction, the dropping of the bags, and a good deal of organizational finesse from Prune, who handled the baggage claim with not a single backpack ending up accidentally in Muncie, IN, we offed to reconnoiter a truly treacherous trail laid by our visiting dignitary from NC, Glitter Puss, and his valiant ward Just Joao.

And what a trail it was. One would think that in a posh neighborhood in an old Latin city, where many a century the sidewalks have seen only lightly dusted spats on elegant shoes promenading right beside the genteel clacking of fine mahogany walking-sticks, a trail could be nothing if not placid, but Glitter Puss and Just Joao had something else entirely in store for us. It was like entering the Minoan Labirynth. More checkpoints than trail markers, constant uncertainty, and repeated expeditions in directions that led to nowhere! It was a Hitchcock thriller – the upsetting part!

Thank our pagan gods for the beer-stop. It was good, and there was beer. A second stop had to be pruned from the march due to time constraints and the loss of many souls in the treachery of the tortuous trail through the vast bourgeois savannah that lay between us and more cold beers, but hashers are made of strong stuff, and so the sacrifice was handled with very little crying and whining.

Many having forsaken the faith and made their way back to home base for safety and a little beer, we gathered for the circle, which was led with humor and grace by Sir Acting Semen, with your humble servant, Multiple Entry, performing duties pertaining to the faith. Many down-downs were administered in the wake of some lacking hasherdashery, minor indiscipline, and a most terrible(excellent, that is) trail, which garnered a spectacularly low(good) score on account of its unusual treachery and other proper hash behaviors.

Piss-pouring was handled with grace and aplomb by Prune, Veni VD Vici, and Sir Acting Semen, as virgins were introduced, and rules explained. At first some didn't get it, but they came around.

See how Our Lager makes everything better?

A baptism eventually took place: welcome, one and all, One Erection to the fold. We had a good view of the latest centerpiece in the architectural lanscape that is Santiago, the Costanera Center, tallest building in Latin America, if you can believe those measurements... Worn down by the relentless interrogation that is part and parcel for the induction into such an elite and selective group as the H3, our newest disciple confessed, under duress, that she once had a very intimate meeting in that very building with every member of the musical luminaries known as One Direction. She confided that between the lot, theirs perhaps constituted one single adult-sized erection, and so that became her knighted name.

We concluded amidst much rejoicing for the capitulation of the circle, as Archisexual Dancer and Last to Come tended the grille and provided the stuff of life: Let them eat Choripan!

Obviously, no one gets along in this group...

Once again a big thanks to Veni VD Vici for hosting, Sir Acting Semen for his flawless General Mismanagement, Glitter Puss and Just Joao for bravely forging a trail where none had been forged, Prune and Mariachi Masturbator for baggage handling that involved no unintended reroutings to Muncie, IN, Prune, once again, for organizational and Piss Pouring grace under pressure, Moon Job for being the responsible one with assiduous record-keeping re. namings, hash cash, etc., Bi-weekly Deposit and Archisexual Dancer for beer-meistering, possibly the most important and pivotal contribution to making us worship our lager, Last to Come for the excellent photography, and once again, Prune and Stroke My Bono for handling hasherdashery duties.

In the end, the group dispersed into multiple after-parties, with all invited to every one and sad to only have the ability to attend one at a time. Some may still possibly be there...