Where: Bugaboo Creek Pub
Big Rock: Trad and 'Hopper
Sure, grizzled hash veteran Pyro was solo hare for the First Hash of Spring, or at least that's what the calendar and the website claimed.
If you closed your eyes and focused really, really hard, you could imagine flowers blooming, birds singing and a warm sun blanketing our little corner of the Great Big North.
No, wait, what a crock. There's no way anyone — not Dubya on his worst delusional day, not a strung-out junkie suffering through a bad night at Bugaboo Creek Pub, no one — could believe that.
Not when Calgary was blanketed with what seemed like nine metres of snow, cars and people were still trying to navigate the city's icy and snowy streets, and spring seemed as far away as, well, Swaziland.
It was probably spring somewhere — Vegas or Arizona or the Deep South maybe — just not in Calgary or Alberta or anywhere in a nearby area code.
Welcome to our Weather Nightmare, aka late March in Alberta.
The over/under on a Pyro trail is generally 9 kilometres or so, and he didn't disappoint. It was probably under, as long as you didn't run the whole trail, which looped under the ski jump at Canada Olympic Park.
Hashers navigated the snowy streets and icy pathways around Varsity estates, which had a touch of elegance and a dose of Forest Lawn, all mixed into one. At least true trail didn't cross the concrete barricades on Crowchild International Raceway, as Pyro routes have been known to do.
Hashers eventually made their way back to the bar — even Baby — where RA Bobbin dispensed hash justice while a woman at the bar who was, um, slightly under the influence of probably a whole boatload of chemicals provided entertainment by melting down, freaking out, and throwing bar glasses and other objects before her boyfriend/friend/John carried her away.
Hey, cheap entertainment, you gotta love it. To his credit, Bobbin didn't offer her a down-down, but only because he didn't realize the sideshow that was taking place. Besides, the hash provided its own sideshow. Such as:
"It was so sad," Ms. Made said. "So much for her dreams of Olympic
downhill gold in Whistler at Vancouver 2010. Her last words were: 'If I
wear a helmet, it'll only mess up my hairdo.' Is it too soon to ask Liam
Neeson if he wants to get lucky?"
After haring the next hash, Mr. Slut is jetting off to Gobblerville to
start a new life with former Calgary hasher, ol' what's-her-name. Bon
voyage, as they say.
Hey, whatever works.
It may not happen till June, but it'll get here one of these days.
Duke of Hurl
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