What: Tornado Alley Hash #1176
When: Wednesday, February 27th, 6:00
Location: The Fieldhouse - 3825 E. 17th St. (across from WSU campus)
Hash Cash: $3
Hounds: Puff, NBA, PP, Cuddles, Hummer, BP, Dip, Anything Goes, Trashy
This trail was a new experience for most of us. We started and ended at the Field House, which is one of two official WSU bars. Trail started extremely early, like 3 minutes after the gather time of 6 pm. After a teaser of the trail leading south, it eventually took us north to the campus. Snowball fights ensued on trail, thus making it a virtual war zone. The hare took us over to the Cock Arena where a men's basketball game was about to begin and the racist-minded public was streaming into Cockland in a lemming-like fashion to witness the Shockers get the pants beaten off them. But I digress. With the fascist campus security guards watching our every move, we gloriously ran around the arena to 21st Street, knowing that we would be delighted with the shiggy of the cemetery. Battling our way through the mindless throngs up 21st Street, our dreams of cemetery hashing were dashed because of the security issues, and well, maybe the idea of desecrating the final resting places of the dearly departed. So trail then took us back through the campus, running us through a supposed Frank Lloyd Wright building (FLWN? -Wtf?). Beer near was stashed behind a generator and trash nook, but it considerately gave us shelter from prying eyes and those folks who really wanted to drink a Boxer Lager. Once we gagged down the Boxer crap, we took off again through campus and eventually ended back up at the Field House.
In the welcoming arms of the Field House, many pitchers were consumed, most of which were purchased, but some were poured from the leftover Boxer liquid the hare still couldn't get rid of. Highlight of circle was the naming of our newest hasher. NnCarol will now and forevermore be called Anything Goes, at least until she does something really stupid and earns a renaming. Low point of the evening was hash cash getting stolen out of the Dipster's vehicle. Boo. Perhaps we should stick to safer neighborhoods like 29th and Broadway, 9th and Broadway, and Harry and Broadway.
Cuddle Puncher and Hummer Gay'mes were the last to leave, and actually witnessed the bartender find the bag of empty beer cans that our dumb-ass hare left under the table. Apparently he wasn't too happy about us refilling our pitchers with Boxer Lager. Luckily, that was the end of the Boxer Lager and we will never have it at a hash again. For reals.