400th Hash with Surf City H3

The ol’ Banana will be attending his 400th hash with Surf City H3 tonight (Thur April 17). Yup, another milestone in this half minds life. It is hard to believe that I have attended so many hashes. It just seems like just last year I started the mighty SCH3, though in reality it started November 2000.

I started hashing in 1987 when I went to Hong Kong where my uncle introduced me to this activity. I was hooked from the start. Heck beer with running is great! Now 20 plus years later, I can say that I have gotten more from hashing than any other activity that I have been involved in. I can also day, that I have killed more brain cells due to hashing. which explains many things. Thus I can proudly say, I AM A HALF MIND!

My friend Cheerie sent me the art work – many thanks – she is very talented! I think I look better in purple — some people think I look better in the dark…… and some think I look great leaving.

For more info on the Hash House Harriers, check out The Half Mind Catalog.

I thought I should take a moment here to bring out a tale from the trail. This comes from SCH3 32nd hash and was written by Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

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Surf City H3 Hash Trash – Hash #32 – May 31, 2001

Coconspirators,

On a beautiful Thursday, the pack assembled for SCH3′s 32nd Hash. It proved to be a horrible ending to what had otherwise been a beautiful Santa Cruz day. In what was probably the only intelligent thing I witnessed all night, the persons believing they may be awarded either the whiners purse or the pisshead hat, wisely chose to distract HM Banana Basher by constantly keeping him supplied with beer, thereby keeping his little mind occupied.

The following hounds dragged their collective tails to circle: Hares Last Call Norm & dBASED, Butt Floss, Little Oral Andy, Al’s Bee-atch, Bailas con Burros, Pearl Necklace, Feel My Seal, Dog’s Breath, Bad Spoon Rising, Viagra Falls (driving a nice stolen red convertible), Just Grant, Just Yoni, Just Dave, Just Tad, RA Pussy Galore (just back from sabbatical), HM Banana Basher and your slave-scribe Puff the Magic Drag Queen.

Pearl Necklace was almost late to circle as, working with limited brain power, decided the safest place for his keys would be to lock them inside his car. One of our number, probably by virtue of the fact they had tried it before as well, complimented him on the idea but also mentioned the biggest problem with the idea was how the hell to get back in the car when you wanted to drive it. Butt Floss loaned a coat hanger to Pearl Necklace and, by virtue of the fact he had left the windows down, he easily retrieved the keys.

Hares Last Call Norm (still able to stand up) and dBASED promised an easy run. They lied. dBASED‘s smile has always made me nervous, after this run it down right scares me. The hares headed out traveling north along the San Lorenzo Stream towards Homeless Hometown beneath the Highway One bridge. The pack continued their beer binge until start was called fifteen minutes later.

It wasn’t long before the collective knew we were going to get our feet wet, literally and figuratively. I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but Banana Basher was the first to take the plunge. He has previously shown a propensity for water and again showed no hesitation. The ease with which Banana Basher parted the waters would have made Charlton Heston jealous. This turned out to be somewhat of a circle jerk as we crossed and then crossed back to the original bank. Somewhere around here, we were on what could be called the main street of Homeless Hometown. Your scribe noticed Pearl Necklace and Feel My Seal stop to talk with old friends. Most other hashers picked up speed along the path though not wanting to see how most hashers end up in their old age.

Now, in the only show of mercy the entire night, trail turned inland and headed towards Ocean Street Extension with Dog’s Breath showing the way, Pearl Necklace, reunion completed, in hot pursuit. Little Oral Andy and Butt Floss were showing signs of life as well. The decision was made that the hares simply had to turn right on Ocean Street Extension so the pack headed in that direction.

At the intersection with Graham Hill Road, a checkpoint was encountered. Puff the Magic Drag Queen, not knowing how FRB’s are supposed to act, simply turned right and ran towards Ocean Street. He probably thought the run was over. Spying flour cleverly hidden behind a trash can, your ever so humble scribe Puff the Magic Drag Queen gave an ‘On One’ cry. This was quickly followed by ‘On-Two’ and then ‘On-On.’ The ‘Beer Near’ marker was observed on the corner of Jewel Street and up the hill the throng went.

One of Last Call Norm‘s innumerable vehicles was spotted halfway up the hill. Beer was doled out as each hound arrived on scene. Your scribe had always believed Bad Spoon Rising liked Al’s Bee-atch a great deal. Now the truth be known. Bad Spoon Rising is happy to see Al’s Bee-atch come to hashes so he is saved from being DFL. His tongue protruded so far he had to be careful when he walked. Al’s Bee-atch, for the first time in three weeks, was observed at a beer check. But sadly, she was so damn late the pack was ready to leave by the time she arrived. Luckily for the neighbors, blue recycling cans were available behind a nearby apartment complex. They were rapidly filled as all present love to recycle beer containers.

dBASED informed us the run was half over. He lied again. He also informed us that he would ‘accompany’ us on the remainder of the run as trail had been previously laid away. Trail was not the only thing about to get ‘laid away’. Up Jewel Street the herd journeyed past the Elks Club and no, we were not invited in. At the end of the parking lot, the pack plunged down the side of a cliff and landed beside Highway 17 with cars full of tourists speeding by, just inches from our overexposed bodies. The FRB’s traveled towards the fish hook, wondering where the hell we were going. As we approached the fish hook, we began a descent everyone wishes they hadn’t. Looming ahead of us was, in retrospect, the gateway to Hades. The only thing missing was Cerberus. Then again, no self-respecting dog would be seen with this motley gang.

The bravest jumped into the stream and forged ahead, seemingly oblivious to not only the impending darkness but the malodorous scent emanating from the gaping maw. Okay, you caught me. It wasn’t really the ‘bravest’ the led the way, it was actually the very stupidest among us. Oh, one other small detail. The damn thing was certainly no more than five feet in height. I felt it necessary to insert that for Al’s Bee-atch whom I’m certain did not notice. These hounds, either in an attempt at suicide or being the dumbest of the dumb, began splashing through the tunnel as if they really thought those behind were impressed. A few hundred yards into this potential mass grave, light could not be seen in either direction. Thankfully, there were no other paths available or you can rest assured some of our number would still be wandering the catacombs beneath Santa Cruz. Blinking against the light, hashers poured out the other end gasping for fresh air. What the hell had died in that tube? Then it was determined the ‘stream’ we has just bathed in was actually the sewer outfall for De Laveaga Golf Course.

Pussy Galore, never one you could term ‘shy’, continued playing in the water while all others scrambled from that cesspool in fear for their lives. Much to the dismay of the soaked contingency, flour was viewed continuing down the outfall and in to another black hole. Dog’s Breath, now living up to his name in more ways than one, plunged back into the water like a Golden Retriever. Mercifully, the second leg of this torture course was far shorter than the first. Just as the hash was reconsidering their earlier collective decision to lynch Last Call Norm and dBASED from any available perch, a third challenge was noted. Light could be seen from the other end, so to compensate for such a short period of discomfort, the height of this pipe was lowered to way below five feet. I witnessed Little Oral Andy and his useless brother, Just Dave, try and limbo their way through this third tunnel to hell. And just when you though it was safe to get out of the water, a fourth subterranean slit appeared. If I only could have wrapped my fingers around Last Call Norm and dBASED‘s neck for one minute….. After the last in this series of below-the-belt tricks was negotiated, the stinking, sopping herd found itself back at the top of Ocean Street with the starting point in sight. There is a new definition to audacity. This would be Last Call Norm sitting atop the end of the fourth and final tunnel blowing a whistle and yelling ‘Hurry up!’ Last Call Norm, who reportedly still sleeps with a light on, never traversed any of these hideous tunnels you can rest assured. She only drove the beer truck this time and got credit as ‘co-hare’. Your scribe will volunteer any time to drive around Santa Cruz is a hideous shade of red SUV drinking beer and throwing the cans out the window. If it hadn’t been for the fact she was perched a safe height above me on the wall, I would have rung her scrawny neck. Pussy Galore stopped me though by saying she had stolen Last Call Norm‘s car keys and that there was probably beer still left over from the beer check. After securing beer from Last Call Norm‘s truck, the pack moved back to where this all began, and in my opinion, it should have ended right there as well. The herd moved a discreet distance from the road as this is a very popular spot with the local constable, and by the same token, we are not very popular with them.

Freshly returned RA Pussy Galore called the On-On to some semblance of order with her normal domineering attitude.

The hares were the first on her hit parade and deservedly so I might add. Not since Chevrolet began selling the Corvair, have so many people been jerked around by so few people. This was not so much of a ‘run’ as it was a ‘crawl’. I’d mention a few of the things this hash has done to adversely affect the well-being of those that made the mistake of attending but I won’t honor the hares by wasting any time on it. Short of lethal injection with some of the liquid they made us traverse, I can see no more fitting punishment. They were awarded a down-down. If we only had more beer, they should have been made to stand there till they dropped.

Little Oral Andy was awarded his obligatory down-down for crimes on trail.

Al’s Bee-atch was awarded a down-down for being FRB at trail end.

Puff the Magic Drag Queen was awarded a down-down because he touched Pussy Galore‘s bum. It’s not what it sounds like! When told to assist Pussy Galore when exiting the trough we had just swam down, Pussy Galore told Puff the Magic Drag Queen to put his hands under her feet. Puff the Magic Drag Queen, afraid his wet hands would slip off Pussy Galore‘s wet shoes, opted to grab, I mean push, on her bum as being a far superior method of lifting her. She apparently disagreed. Bad Spoon Rising and Just Yoni were awarded down-downs for a flagrant display of chivalry on trail.

Just Yoni, not wanting to get her feet entangled in the local pond scum, commanded Bad Spoon Rising to carry her across the water. Sir Walter Raleigh is reputed to have laid down his cloak across a puddle for his lady to have walked upon. While at first glance this may appear even more chivalrous, it should be remembered that Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentleman. You can rest assured Bad Spoon Rising had ulterior motives as always.

Just Dave and Butt Floss were both awarded down-downs for alcohol abuse. Both were seen pouring beer from their containers at beer check while walking to the recycling cans.

Puff the Magic Drag Queen was awarded another down-down for being first at beer check. I will not make that mistake again. You won’t have Puff the Magic Drag Queen to kick around anymore. My first, and last, stint as an FRB. Why me? I’ve never said an unkind word about any of my fellow hashers.

As an aside to this rehash of the hash, there have not been so many down-downs awarded in recent memory. If this is any indication of newly crowned RA Pussy Galore‘s malevolence, I strongly advise the hash cease drinking before the run or there will be no one standing for the On-On.

I hope Last Call Norm and dBASED were given sufficient money by the Doc-in-the-Box on Ocean Street. I personally know eleven hashers made that their next stop to receive a tetanus booster shot and to be given the test for hoof and mouth disease. Feel My Seal, having had nursing experience, supplied the doctor on duty with a water sample. Six new forms of life have already been found.

Stupid is as Stupid Does award to Bad Spoon Rising. Could even one such as himself believe he would be allowed to get away with carrying his girl-fiend-du-jour across the water and get away with it? Prior to the invention of civilization, real men would have removed a certain portion of the male anatomy from Bad Spoon Rising for such a flagrant display of being a whipped man. Of course, in this instance we need not bother, apparently Just Yoni has already beaten us to the punch.

Submitted, with all respect due,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen
SCH3 Scribe