And the above is precisely what Surf City H3 has attempted to do for over a decade now. Sadly, this is not always a pleasurable experience and never has it been less enjoyable than when Vince Lamblowme assumes the reins of power as hare.
There. That sets the stage for another tragedy rivaling that of Romeo and Juliet. If you were smart you’d close this page and grab a beer. However, knowing you’re all half-minds of the first magnitude, I’ll drearily trudge through another Hash Trash and tie Vince to the whipping post as he so richly deserves.
Point A was the (New) Jury Room. This watering hole is new in even more ways this time, it has a new owner, a flame-haired beauty named Karen. As I arrived, I met her in the alley conversing with two of her cronies. She was asking if they thought the drinking club that was assembling inside would give their establishment a bad name around town. I told Karen we’d be gone by 7PM so she said, Okay….just this once.
Fifteen minutes after Vince insulted our intelligence by telling us he had an excellent trail in store for us tonight, Surf City circled-up for Hash 599 in the alley behind the Jury Room just across the street from the County Building and a short block away form the Hound Pound, AKA County Jail. Not very smart of us, then again, we’re NOT very smart I guess.
As the hare had been seen to take the alley to May Avenue and head on-left, the check at May was universally ignored. However, on-on was not sounded even after hounds reached Water Street and searched the bank parking lot on the corner of Ocean and Water. A lot of valuable time was lost here due to underhanded trail marking. Eventually, the on-on was sounded in the opposite direction on May and the surviving hounds gave pursuit. The next check was encountered at the intersection with May and Dakota Avenue. Golden Dripster turned on-left and trotted past Central Park. Yes, Central Park. She returned after finding only on-one as did Chad from the path beside Branciforte Creek after finding false markings. It was about this time the herd heard Banana Basher and My Little Bony yell On-on! from across Ocean Street beside the University Inn. It would appear they made a lucky guess or had pre-knowledge of trail. The flock flew across dangerous Ocean and the pack was reunited. However, a check near San Lorenzo Park pared the pod again. Banana and the Bony one continued along Dakota, again demonstrating good guessing or prescient knowledge of trail. The REST of the mob motivated through San Lorenzo Park after finding marker but again appeared to be lost after arriving at the pedestrian bridge over the river. Golden Dripster crossed the bridge but missed a check on the River Street end of the bridge that would have allowed the pack to shortcut a considerable portion of trail. Shame on Golden Dripster for being so drunk so early! Chad soon sounded on-on after finding a hare arrow on the bridge crossing the duck pond.
Now we had some real fun. As we proceeded along the path leading to Water Street, we encountered a meeting of Occupy Santa Cruz, an extension of the protests that have plagued Wall Street in New York the past week. Someone was in front of the crowd giving instructions on how to perform civil disobedience and how to react when the cops start beating on you. We opted not to stay and listen. We also seemed to have lost trail again but we continued on and soon found flour leading on-up from the field beside the river. We were later to learn that the hare, confronted by a large police presence at the protest, opted to use the field below the park rather than having to explain to the constabulary about the white powder he was (illegally) throwing on the ground. After discovering trail again, Chad and Jill followed it under the Water Street bridge onto the levee but were turned back to Water Street and then trail took the troops over the bridge to a check at the intersection with River Street. Here the hare wasted a considerable amount of his apparently-dwindling flour supply by placing an on-two on-right on River and an on-one continuing and Water before laying on-on kitty-cornered on Water Street. Just past the first building, trail turned on-left into a parking lot, then on-right and over a small wall and then on-left to River Street. Next was a interesting but tiring visit to the top floor of the parking garage and a brief visit with the Society for Creative Anachronisms as they waged the medieval battles on the top floor. Then it was down one level to the Galleria complex, back to the ground and on-left to find the check at the River Street Extension end of the pedestrian bridge from San Lorenzo Park Golden Dripster had missed earlier. Shame on her for being so drunk so early.
The fun was over now though. Our cruel hare had laid a trap for us: we were forced to go through the local tweaker contingency that congregates along the levee between the pedestrian bridge and the Soquel Avenue bridge. Harried hounds rallied together for safety’s sake and motored on through. When people asked what we were running for we said we were chasing a guy with a bag full of white powder. Wrong thing to say! Ten of them started running with us but soon fell out, too tired, no stamina.
Trail went under the Soquel Avenue Bridge, turned on-right and crossed back over the river and came to a check at the intersection with Riverside Avenue. We now were reminded Banana and Bony walked on past the check back at the park. This check was already solved for us and consequently we turned on-right and took riverside to Broadway where a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left. Now for some more fun. In the first block along Broadway, a familiar odor filled the air. A small group were sitting on their front porch disposing of some plant life. Starky floated in their direction and offer to help them burn but his kind offer was refused. We motored on. This next stretch of asphalt is long, straight and boring. I survived it only because I had wisely positioned myself behind Golden Dripster and Virgin Stephanie. It improved the scenery immeasurably. We’ve now entered another danger zone, the intersection of Broadway and Ocean. Jill took the path of least resistance and turned on-left but found nothing. Soon on-on was sounded by the Dripster continuing on Broadway and then made the first on-left onto Ocean View Avenue. Ocean View was utilized until Soquel Avenue where we were directed to go directly across. Once across, even Virgin Stephanie recognized this trail marking: BN. Sure enough, behind Branciforte Plaza we found not only our hare but next door neighbors Last Call Norm and Pearl Necklace had crossed the street to join us.
Duties discharged at Beer Check, the herd migrated back to May Avenue behind the Jury Room for Religion. Hugh Heifer volunteered to be not only Religious Adviser but to act as Beer Fairy as well. Here are a few of the acts perpetrated by Hugh: Tiny Whiny Bitch was punished for not having repaired our On-On Foot altar, this even though he had not yet been TOLD it was broken; Hugh punished herself for not hashing trail, Starky was welcomed as a visitor (even though he’s from trouble-making Sant-o-Barbara). A naming was attempted for Chad but he’s such a lack-luster person we were unsuccessful. Food for thought: Chad is a fan of squirrels (yeah, yeah, let the jokes begin). Whether as a cute little animal or as something to eat, I know not. Most of the names thrown up centered around his propensity for this furry critter. Oh yeah, perk up out there harriers. Hugh’s love of flashing is a well-documented perversity around Surf City hashes. Tonight she had company, Golden Dripster. After Virgin Stephaine’s refusal during Joke, Song or Body Part, apparently the Dripster felt the need to make up for her Virgin’s shyness. Stephanie said she’d not met any males at Surf City deserving of viewing her glorious orbs. So yes, Dripster and Hugh did perform a shirt-lifting to give everyone a viewing. This is an opportune time for old Puff to give share some knowledge with any young male pups reading this Trash. The small bumps around a woman’s nipple are Braille for: Suck Here.
Let’s not forget our pathetic hare. Vince was chided for using less and less flour throughout trail, probably due to his putting a dollop or two at every friggin’ intersection before reestablishing true trail consequently having no flour to place in the center of checks for marking them by the time trail was only half completed. As we neared the Beer Check, Golden Dripster was so dissatisfied with trail she asked me if Vince is mentally ill. After Religion Vince asked me if I intended to ream him in the Trash. I said, Yes, most likely. Vince then asked me why I insult him so frequently in the Trash. My reply? Because murder is illegal, Vince.
On-on-on was at Callahan’s. Beertendress Titania said while she doesn’t think we’re especially nice people (or very smart), we tip well so she allowed us to stay. Dripster was living it up mooching free drinks off Starky and Bony while designated driver Stephanie sat glumly and ignored with her private breasts.
By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty “G”, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the ninth day of October in the year of our Hash two-thousand eleven.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen