Here we are…
Having arrived at another Red Dress Run. Knowing this hash to be more of a showcase for our perennial stupidity than anything else, hares of lesser abilities, shall we term it, were chosen. This year we actually went with not one, two or even three losers but one-third of a dozen. Saddled with this unenviable and thankless task were Suck Cockran, Hugh Heifer, DuuHHH and Goat Blower. Knowing them as we all do, I do not feel the need to detail the “attributes” that so justly qualified them for this duty and, as a matter of fact, I hope to not even have to mention their names again. Ever.
The dreary portion of this Trash disposed with, that of disclosing the hare roster, let’s discuss the more joyful part, that of prelube, Beer Checks, Religion and a glorious on-on-on.
We were again allowed to besmirch the castle belonging to Last Call Norm and Pearl Necklace. In olden times, I used to feel sorry for these two due to the destruction and disorder our annual visit brought their way. There’s an old adage that goes this way: Intelligent people DO make mistakes, they just do not repeat them. Consequently, I no longer worry about how many years are taken off their lives by this annual visit.
Turnout was good considering competing events and the lousy economy. We even pulled in a few from over-the-hill and a number of backsliders. That also says quite a bit about those that attended: Santa Cruz’s latest crop of No life people. I suppose it’s you I should now feel sorry for rather than our hosts.
The hares spewed Instructions of Trail on everyone and stood back to see the results. Of the few that wasted valuable drinking to listen, most coughed like they had a bone caught in their throats. The hares looked around and smiled at the pack as if they’d just done us a huge favor. The brevity of Instructions of Trail was their only kindness in my opinion.
Fifteen or so minutes later, hounds barked out their names and outed on Surf City Hash 575. The first check was encountered at the bottom of the driveway. This is where events took a turn for the worse.
Most hounds assumed we’d be heading towards Pacific Avenue and therefore turned on-left towards Ocean Street. This group soon returned to the check, tail betwixt their hind legs. True trail was discovered crossing Soquel Avenue and cutting through an office parking lot and emerging onto May Avenue to the path beside Branciforte Creek and turning on-right to emerge onto Water Street. Here we would encounter another check. Still believing Pacific to be our destination, hounds tore off on-left on Water and did not concern themselves with the absence of flour until reaching Ocean. Time to do some backtracking again. At May, a group turned on-left across Water while another group executed an on-right onto May. This proved the lucky ones as they soon found marker which soon took them on-right down an alley and into the back door of The Jury Room. A number of hounds decided this would make an excellent time for a Gorilla Beer Check and it was so done. The remainder of this ragtag outfit headed out the front door and crossed Ocean and tiptoes through the county building parking lot and turned on-left into San Lorenzo Park. Just prior to crossing the river on the pedestrian bridge, the JN sign was seen and then we spied Hugh Heifer beside a bridge support with her cooler in front of her. When we joined her, she said she’d already had an encounter with the park security guard and had bought us fifteen minutes before he’d be back. When asked how she accomplished this feat, Hugh declined to answer but I took note of the fact she was on her knees when we arrived. Read into that what you would.
Trail from here went on-up to the bridge and across the river, then on-right to the parking garage we’ve utilized many times for Religion. We were jerked around here by marker taking us on-up the the second floor, across the building and then right back on-down to the street. Flour forced us on-left to the intersection of Cooper and Front streets. Trail was located on-right onto Cooper and on-left onto Pacific. Finally we’d arrived. Locals and tourists alike reached for their cell phone cameras as a sea of red washed over them. Most asked what we were doing (as we are asked EVERY week it seems) and were less than satisfied when told, It’s a red dress run! A false down Lincoln Street from a check at Soquel brought the gang back together. Trail took us to the next check at Pacific and Cathcart. Here we were turned on-left to another check at Front. A group automatically turned on-right and did not stop until reaching the Transit Center. Pay no attention to the lack of flour! Back to the check and just in time to hear the on-on sounded proceeding along the levee towards the Boardwalk. When the levee pathway joined with Laurel Street Extension, the hares directed us to on-up the stairs to the top of Beach Hill and then on-down Cliff Street. Partway down the first block, we saw DuuHHH directing us on-right and on-up a driveway to the deck area of an apartment complex where we found Suck Cockran acting as bartender. After sufficient imbibing, on-in was undertaken back to Norm & Pearl’s. We heard many horns beeping at us on this trip. Also, the promised Bad Wine Check was found in a box beside Ocean Street in Beach Flats. Nice touch, hares. Damned dangerous but nice touch.
Butt Balls was elected Mob-rule Religious Adviser and he immediately saddled Broke Bench with Beer Fairy duty. It was getting dark by now so Religion was not protracted. Butt Balls told me his philosophy never delay the END of Religion nor the BEGINNING of On-on-on. I applaud him on this.
Religion went something like this: Down-down to Ralph Crammed-In and Beaver Spit for missing the start of trail; My Little Bony for wearing a red shirt but no red dress; Boner Malfunction for showing up at the start wearing a pink shirt; TIMMY for having but 15 days until retiring; Rod Lover, Daddy’s White Sauce and Tater Tits for being backslider. There were others but those people weren’t necessary to the success of this hash.
On-on-on, no doubt needless to say, was both at the Double-Oh and was a raucous event. It featured the snaring on an old kennel mate, Clit Van Wrinkle and the Doctor foolishly purchasing a round of shots for anyone foolish enough to take her up on this foolish offer.
And that’s how Hash 575, Red Dress 2011, went for Surf City. It’s in our record book and shan’t ever be repeated.
Thank you goes out to Last Call Norm and Pearl Necklace for the loan of their home; to Suck Cockran, Hugh Heifer DuuHHH and Goat Blower for haring and to each and every one you for donating your hare-earned money to WomenCare.
Puff the Magic Drag Queen
Here we are…