Run #1348 - Frogger for Real!
July 16, 2007
Hares: Randy Bastard
Where: Rip's Pub & Eatery, 838 Crowfoot Crescent NW
Big Rock: Costly but cold and wet
Attendance: 30
Hares: Randy Bastard
Where: Rip's Pub & Eatery, 838 Crowfoot Crescent NW
Big Rock: Costly but cold and wet
Attendance: 30
It's not every day that the Calgary hash experiences the honour and privilege of running-walking-sauntering-staggering across the Crowchild Trail Construction Disaster — and lives to tell about it.
There's nothing like shimmying over the concrete barriers — except for Pee-On, who borrowed a nearby ladder — and getting into staredowns from angry motorists late for the Calgary Vipers' game.
Look this way, look that way, look the other way, then repeat — it's all good. In case of any mishaps, thankfully a funeral home was along the trail just across the highway. But its services, fortunately, weren't needed.
Perhaps the beer re-group at solo hare Randy Bastard's house helped calm any nerves that might have been jangling about the task ahead. Or maybe hashers were just too tired from the long trek to worry about such a small detail as crossing Crowchild.
They got a small taste of it earlier in the run when the pack crossed the mega-busy thoroughfare, but that was at an actual traffic light. Much huffing, puffing and trudging — not to mention beer drinking — took place between Crowchild I and Crowchild II.
But if nothing else, hashers are often troupers, even Dreary, who gamely walked the trail after suffering a major owww-ie on his leg at the Stampede hash in the Badlands of Wayne. Come to think of it, Dreary feigned ignorance about the re-group, so he might not even have challenged Crowchild's always-courteous drivers.
Hmm, probably the seven jugs of beer back at the bar were better medicine for what ailed him anyway.
Whatever the details, the pack returned safe and sound to RIP's, which required the, uh, ripoff purchase of a watered-down $3 soda in order to get the $4.95 steak sandwich special. At least the beer flowed without any problems.
Hashers gathered on the patio on a warm summer evening, the earlier
weather forecasts about a 60 percent chance of severe thunderstorms just
a distant memory.
Some were still nursing injury or hangovers from the Stampede hash. Miraculously, Sticky Lips, who has a free lifetime pass to all emergency rooms in Alberta and British Columbia, wasn't among the injured — and actually ran in preparation for her first-ever R-word later in the week near Pincher Boy's place.
RA Skewbic managed to conduct business without his usual beer acolyte, Clueless, who may or may not have disappeared into the ether with some motorcycle enthusiasts from the Wayne weekend.
Chick Lick, who can multi-task with the best of them, assisted with pouring beer and taking hash cash — what a Wonder Woman. Skewbic opted not to choose a choir, although quasi-musical director Hardly and his sidekicks sorta did the off-key honours.
The hash was full of semi-interesting sights and sounds, as usual. For instance:
Big Country, all 6-feet-12 of him, recounted on trail about how he saw
a snake during the Stampede hash. He didn't know what kind of snake, but
it didn't matter. It was a snake, probably a 25-foot boa constrictor or
something. Or possibly not.
Oh, the horror. Oh, the humanity.
The outward hash migration from Calgary has stopped, at least temporarily. No one moved this week to Botswana, Bulgaria or Timbuktu — Dastardly's recent pleasure trip to China doesn't count.
But you never know.
Someone may decide to ditch Crowchild traffic in exchange for somewhere better, such as suburban Beijing.
ON ON!
Duke of Hurl
