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.
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| Actual NASA photo of the 1964 incident. | |
Although hash 147 took place on
the 37th 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.
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| 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.
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| Virgins were introduced before setting off |
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| And the
hares, the lovely Scrum on my Face and Just Andres, explained the markings and vicissitudes of the trail. |
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| 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.
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| ...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.
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| She quickly sheds anything that could soak up beer, demonstrating her wisdom in the ways of Namings | |
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| ...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. |
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| "Well, just a little, right?" ... "Would I lie to you?" Do you notice Sir Cumming Up for Air preparing a little surprise behind her? |
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| 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...
