We arrived to Hurricane Hole and quickly made our way to a jubilant bunch of hasher congregating by the bar expecting to find a cooler filled with wonderful golden nectar. Alas this was not the case and there was no cooler and we had to pay for our own On-Start nectar. Shame to the hares Nursing an STD and Pleasure Me Orally for this egregious oversight. But we quickly forgave them since they promised us delicious surprises on trail. We gathered around all of the hares, which was a record setting pack of 27 Hashers (including hares), and discussed those silly markings for the virgins and veterans alike. The hares were given a 10ish minute head start and we were off!
All looked promising as we made our way Northbound on US1 into Stock Island! Hopes were quickly dashed though as we lost the trail in front of Dion’s. Mmmmmm….fried chicken! A search grid was quickly set up and we located a virgin check at an intersection a block off US1. MARK YOUR INTERSECTIONS HARES! This is getting a little silly. The trail took us deeper into the underbelly of the Stock Rock. At a whichy-way Just Sonny, Fartacus, Just Kiel, and two other brave souls zenned across a block and picked up trail, whilst the rest of the pack came across what they thought was a beer check. It turned out to be two empty Smirnoff Ices? (Honor to the homeless!!) With the fab 5 well ahead of the rest of the pack, the first beer check was found after wading through several bogs. During consumption of the nectar Tiny Pole Dancer (who by the way was already tanked) decided to tackle Fucking Low Prices and his girlfriend into one of the bogs as he was trying to carry her across the water. This did not go over well (under well?). They left.
The trail then took us in the general direction of the Rusty Anchor. Another beer check? No L. But hope was high as we turned onto the road where the mighty Hog Fish is located, as we passed the road which we all felt for sure we would turn down to find more frosty libations, again no trail headed to the BAR. L. Turns out there was nectar at Hog Fish but a poorly marked trail struck again. (Seriously guys?) We trudged on, thirsty, in to Boyd’s campground where once we reached the end, BEER CHECK! In a boat several hundred feet away. Ribbed for His Pleasure, Just Sonny, Just Kiel, TurdinHand, Just Justin, Tiny Pole Dancer and some virgin with nice ta-tas braved the rough sea to claim the nectar! They would not however bring beer back to the rest of the dry pack. As they kept yelling “you drink, you swim”.
This seemed to dishearten most of the pack. Trail was ignored as everyone returned to the On-Start. Ribbed for His Pleasure made a quick pit stop to get Burger King drive through. He did not get any for the rest of us. Shame! All returned to the mighty Hurricane Hole, many beers were consumed, accusations were thrown in all directions, several boobie sightings were made, and delicious wings were consumed.