Hare: Psychodrunk Pack: iPhonicater, Happy SM, ScrewDriveHer, No Name Maki, Chainsaw Assacre, Cliffhanger, Sushi Cow Girl, No Name John (from Canada eh), Texas T-Bag
Hashers gathered at Gonjoji Park east of Haiki Station for run # 438 on a crisp, sunny Sunday. As a novel idea, Texas T-Bag tested the use of something called a "tripod" to facilitate the pre-run group photo. After a few shots, everyone realized that Sushi Cow Girl had suddenly disappeared. Still, the show had to go on. Unbelievably, the hare was away, rather promptly for a change, at 2:03PM blazing a trail towards the southeast. Soon Sushi Cow Girl returned with some biaches, so the pack didn't hassle him too much.
Since the trail was at least one standard deviation left of the normally S H I T T Y Psychodrunk trail, the pack spent much of the first 15 minutes of trail dazed and confused - much like a hyperactive dog, obsessed with chasing its tail until someone provides some doggie Prozac. Still, working together, the pack was able to piece together the bits and pieces of the trail (that's all there was!) and determine the general direction of the true trail. A few hash marks were found on the west and south side of Hirota Elementary School, and hashers were greeted by a few shouts of "Harrow" from cheerful school kids waking around the surrounding streets. Another three hash marks led the pack through the next 200m south of the school (Was the hare conserving chalk?) finally crossing the river, where another one or two hash marks continued to lead the trail to the south.
For some reason, there was an abundance of hash marks, and even a true-trail arrow or two in Hirota Park, adjacent to the playground that was packed with children enjoying the day. It almost seemed as if the hare must have slowed down in this area - possibly to check out something that rhymes with "molasses".
The trail passed through some rice paddies on the north side of Hirota Sports Park, past a lake where Chainsaw Assacre suggested would be good for bass fishing, then into a small shrine with BT marks all around. Nearby, Texas T-Bag made a spot inspection of the chalk being waved about by Screwdriver and Happy SM. Surprisingly, their sticks were pretty well worn down, suggesting they had been leaving a few pack arrows from time to time.... too bad yours truly never found them. From the shrine, the pack managed to find true trail that passed through a grandmother's driveway and up an over into the next valley. Psycho had apparently told the obaasan not to be too scared of the gringo barbarians that were soon to pass, so her reception to the pack was pretty cheerful. Too bad this would not last. The trail led down a valley toward P-Zone Pachinko, but the pack found a CB prior to getting close enough to see any departing customers who were suffering from O-Zone (big loss). From the CB, the trail turned north into some woods where the hashers were once again cheered on by ojiisan and obaasan. But the mood quickly changed as the pack ran down a foot trail leading back towards the sports park entrance. Along the foot trail, a woman came out of her house 50m west of the trail just to emphasize to hashers that the property near the trail was private, and nobody should run through her farm.
Hashers gathered at Gonjoji Park east of Haiki Station for run # 438 on a crisp, sunny Sunday. As a novel idea, Texas T-Bag tested the use of something called a "tripod" to facilitate the pre-run group photo. After a few shots, everyone realized that Sushi Cow Girl had suddenly disappeared. Still, the show had to go on. Unbelievably, the hare was away, rather promptly for a change, at 2:03PM blazing a trail towards the southeast. Soon Sushi Cow Girl returned with some biaches, so the pack didn't hassle him too much.
Since the trail was at least one standard deviation left of the normally S H I T T Y Psychodrunk trail, the pack spent much of the first 15 minutes of trail dazed and confused - much like a hyperactive dog, obsessed with chasing its tail until someone provides some doggie Prozac. Still, working together, the pack was able to piece together the bits and pieces of the trail (that's all there was!) and determine the general direction of the true trail. A few hash marks were found on the west and south side of Hirota Elementary School, and hashers were greeted by a few shouts of "Harrow" from cheerful school kids waking around the surrounding streets. Another three hash marks led the pack through the next 200m south of the school (Was the hare conserving chalk?) finally crossing the river, where another one or two hash marks continued to lead the trail to the south.
For some reason, there was an abundance of hash marks, and even a true-trail arrow or two in Hirota Park, adjacent to the playground that was packed with children enjoying the day. It almost seemed as if the hare must have slowed down in this area - possibly to check out something that rhymes with "molasses".
The trail passed through some rice paddies on the north side of Hirota Sports Park, past a lake where Chainsaw Assacre suggested would be good for bass fishing, then into a small shrine with BT marks all around. Nearby, Texas T-Bag made a spot inspection of the chalk being waved about by Screwdriver and Happy SM. Surprisingly, their sticks were pretty well worn down, suggesting they had been leaving a few pack arrows from time to time.... too bad yours truly never found them. From the shrine, the pack managed to find true trail that passed through a grandmother's driveway and up an over into the next valley. Psycho had apparently told the obaasan not to be too scared of the gringo barbarians that were soon to pass, so her reception to the pack was pretty cheerful. Too bad this would not last. The trail led down a valley toward P-Zone Pachinko, but the pack found a CB prior to getting close enough to see any departing customers who were suffering from O-Zone (big loss). From the CB, the trail turned north into some woods where the hashers were once again cheered on by ojiisan and obaasan. But the mood quickly changed as the pack ran down a foot trail leading back towards the sports park entrance. Along the foot trail, a woman came out of her house 50m west of the trail just to emphasize to hashers that the property near the trail was private, and nobody should run through her farm.
The hare took the pack west across the railroad tracks, past the Bulldog store, along the red jogging / biking path that hugged the shoreline, past a 6-story sweatshop factory, to a point where the hare tried to make it look like he had swam across the river to make true trail. The FRBs were not about to take the plunge, and swim across the river given the 8C temperature and lack of any wet footprints within view.
Soon, the pack returned to the park and competed for space with the local children who seemed to be challenging everyone to a pick-up soccer game. There were no dead birds for Happy SM to play with this time around, so instead she focused on drinking from her thimble size beer mug.
No Name John (from Canada eh), must work for the Canadian CIA or something, because all his answers to "Who made you come" and "How did you find the Hash" were all impeccably tied to beer and and the ability to sniff out a six-pack from miles away. Still, it seems that there was one activity missing from the standard trifecta of "Running" + "Drinking" + something else???
Hashers did their best to finish off the select (yet still reasonably cheap) bottled beer in the hour + of circle time. Since the pack had been so dispersed by the S H I T T Y trail, calls to "rat out your neighbor" resulted in very few vile Asians. With neighborhood kids using the circle as an impromptu soccer goal, the hashers tried their best to abstain from the usual profanity laced verses of song. Chainsaw raised a point-of-lager, questioning the dedication of hashers since they were singing so quietly, but everyone agreed that this was not the normal "noisy" pack. Surprisingly, all the carrots and celery disappeared well before the first bag of chips was emptied. Perhaps there is a correlation?
The circle wrapped up around 5PM with a Swing Low. Hashers dined at the nearby Haiki sushi-go-round. As luck would have it, their ticket number at the restaurant was #69. While there, Psychodrunk was unable to properly eat his sushi by using chopsticks at the sushi-go-round, so other hashers provided him with a fork. Apparently his wrist muscles had cramped from holding all that unused chalk on trail, or possibly something else that was similar (or much smaller) in size.
Soon, the pack returned to the park and competed for space with the local children who seemed to be challenging everyone to a pick-up soccer game. There were no dead birds for Happy SM to play with this time around, so instead she focused on drinking from her thimble size beer mug.
No Name John (from Canada eh), must work for the Canadian CIA or something, because all his answers to "Who made you come" and "How did you find the Hash" were all impeccably tied to beer and and the ability to sniff out a six-pack from miles away. Still, it seems that there was one activity missing from the standard trifecta of "Running" + "Drinking" + something else???
Hashers did their best to finish off the select (yet still reasonably cheap) bottled beer in the hour + of circle time. Since the pack had been so dispersed by the S H I T T Y trail, calls to "rat out your neighbor" resulted in very few vile Asians. With neighborhood kids using the circle as an impromptu soccer goal, the hashers tried their best to abstain from the usual profanity laced verses of song. Chainsaw raised a point-of-lager, questioning the dedication of hashers since they were singing so quietly, but everyone agreed that this was not the normal "noisy" pack. Surprisingly, all the carrots and celery disappeared well before the first bag of chips was emptied. Perhaps there is a correlation?
The circle wrapped up around 5PM with a Swing Low. Hashers dined at the nearby Haiki sushi-go-round. As luck would have it, their ticket number at the restaurant was #69. While there, Psychodrunk was unable to properly eat his sushi by using chopsticks at the sushi-go-round, so other hashers provided him with a fork. Apparently his wrist muscles had cramped from holding all that unused chalk on trail, or possibly something else that was similar (or much smaller) in size.
On On, Texas T-Bag
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