Hares: DTF and Shiggy
The trash will be written from the hare's perspective today.
It was a magical night filled with unicorns, a little running, shots, and bars all in celebration of our dear Humper's birthday. A tiny pack of hashers met at 7pm (well, most of us) at the Southernmost Point to circle up and quaff some sacred nectar before the running began. The hares, Dead Travelin' Fister and Shiggy Shave-Her, took off in two separate directions, thoroughly confusing the pack even while Menage A Neuf's catcalls echoed down the street. You knew right away this trail would be challenging....... DTF and Shiggy raced through the streets with a hungry pack behind them, dropping boob, package, song, and beer checks the whole way. The first half of the trail was absolutely littered with checks and whichy-ways and YBFs to slow the pack. Occasionally the hares stopped to have a root beer barrel shot or stare at pink, personless thong underwear freshly deposited on the nutrient-void, beer-soaked Key West soil. We also discovered a few well-dressed hashers not hashing on Duval street, and thoroughly scolded them until we realized they were celebrating their unmentionable anniversary or some such nonsense. No one cared; we moved on. After dropping music checks all the way down Duval Street in the middle of lobsterfest, we hares were extremely excited to hear the moaning and bitching from the pack once they arrived at the end of the trail. But sadly, it was not to be. Instead we heard moaning and bitching because this sad little pack lost the extraordinarily well-marked trail in the midst of their debaucherous drinking. Still, in circle it was admitted that it was in fact a GREAT trail, other than by Neuf who drank for his failure to yield his cantankerous mood at the time. Some other people drank because they didn't wear their best non-Muggle attire. Some other people drank for some other shit but I don't remember what.
At this point, the man of the hour Humper himself, with Gator Snapper in tow, showed up at circle and re-energized these worthless wankers enough to begin the Duval Birthday Crawl. We began at Captain Tony's and ended at McConnells. There were about ten or so bars in between that night. With much ado about nothing, we whistled, stomped, and sang our obnoxious way into the traumatized public's hearts......except for that one Irish Catholic bartender, but I think he was just mad at our lengthy, perhaps off-key explanation of why Jesus couldn't hash and at 1 am to boot. It was an enlightening experience for all of us, or none of us. But it lasted about 20 minutes or so and that's the important part. Just Chris showed up at 1am, sketchy bastard, just in time for us to leave. (By the way dude, I have the weirdest ass-dialed voicemail from you from during the Sunday night dinner and you're drinking for that next time I see you - didn't sound like work to me at all mister!)
After McConnells, we all went home to prepare our livers for the next night. I'll post some pics from all three birthday nights just for the fun of it.