BeerMeister: 4" Spike
So there we were, sweating in the hot summer sun like a bunch of nuns at a cucumber stall in the farmer's market. A few of us had even decided to wear clothes having to do with the NFL theme. Our group this day was made up of a motley crew of hashers, from visitors to virgins to hashers returning from far-away kennels in Europe. Once all had gathered (after some confused effort in using Google Maps took place) and caught up a bit, haberdash was sold, and Missed Her Bullseye disappeared and missed the hash as well. An elaborate chalk talk included the very unusual presence of a leap-frog amongst some groans and squeals of delight. And we were off!
Almost immediately, the unnamed Treasure Coast visitor and virgin took off at the head of the pack. No idea where they went, because I never saw them again on-trail after the first block or at any beer checks. Soooo I hope they had a nice vacay....... um, on-on? Shiggy Shave-Her, Mu-Sick, Just John (who was named this night), and myself led the pack around Roosevelt to Flagler and then around some zigs and zags. Shiggy went off trail somewhere and Just John and I suddenly found ourselves at the back of the pack after a large amount of short-cutting by the rest of the pack took place.....naughty naughty. In my angst, I stole a child's tiny rainbow hula hoop off the sidewalk and it sits in my car even now. Taught that crotchfruit to put its toys away. We finally got over to our first beer check after at least a mile and a half or so which is a long time without alcohol for us island miscreants. With our thirsts temporarily abated and the harriettes' bras full of ice, we pushed on, stealing shopping carts and running from a swarm of bees that XSNRG decided to stir up outside of a trailer park along the way.
-Dead Travelin Fister