So there we were. Coconut Mallory was flooded with hashers on bikes, much to the joy of the bartenders and the detriment of the poor fella just trying to play some acoustic cover songs. But once I heard something of the noxious Darius Rucker (Bootie and the Hofish) genre, I ceased to care. Much beer and cider was consumed, stories were bullshitted, and familiar, long-unseen faces (Rumply Foreskin, Tiny Testes, Reverse Rumspringa) were welcomed back to the pack with open arms. We filled our vessels with sacred nectar and off we went.
Menage A Neuf, Shiggy Shave-Her, and myself (Dead Travelin Fister), were off like a shot, madly pursuing our hares and the wagon of delicious refreshments. From Coconut Mallory, we rode that seawall hard like proper harriers until we got to our first beer check. Our activities must have been heralded far and wide, as we were accompanied by a motorcyclist who was so excited that he decided to go 70 mph down South Roosevelt and bring some law enforcement officers with him. None of them actually made it to the beer check, but it was a valiant effort and his testicles were much admired from a distance at which we would not take any attention from the po-po. We gave the hares some time to be off again and resumed the chase. We looped around Bertha and onto Atlantic, where HNIC in his untethered joy at seeing the first Beer Near promptly dove off his bike while it was still moving and slid across the asphalt. "Blood on trail!!!", the pack cried, memorizing the event for circle later. The rest of us rode over or around him (after some initial concern that he was still breathing of course) through the woods to the end of the pier. Second beer check! Some of us played in the ocean while quenching our thirsts, some of us were so sweet (Shiggy) we got our flesh devoured by the swamp mosquitos. A few gathered some sunset pictures for facebook to remind the rest of the world that we live where they vacation. Group pictures were taken after some technology fumbling. And then we were off again! Trail was fairly simple and we meandered around until the third check in front of the Lime Tree on Flagler. The homeless people admired our stock (both the beer and the flesh). Eventually we made our way to the On-In and descended upon the house of Seven Shooters, our fearless GM. We found a hasher there who didn't bash with us - Schoolhouse Cocks - who promptly stripped nekkid and jumped in the pool for penance. Circle came and went - a bad joke was told and an appendage was displayed, fairly minor accusations were laid out and down-downs assigned. Wings were ordered, and the poor delivery guy didn't get a response at the front door so he made the horrible mistake of walking into the backyard......and I'm sure he will have vivid nightmares from the images burned into his brain for the rest of his life.
All in all, it was a great night and a shitty trail. What more can a girl ask for!?!?!?!