Trail #1305 - BP's Death March
Hounds: Dip, NBA, Puff, Tina, Butthole Whisperer, CIA, nnAmanda, nnCollin, Anything Goes, PQuad, ButtHerFinger, nnKim
The pack is beginning to believe that BP has it in for us. This trail is just one more piece of evidence that she's trying to kill us off by way of crappy trails. The pack gathered at Fat Ernie's in the Dirty South, a brand-newly-opened beer dive on S. Hydraulic, and the hare led us all-the-fuck over and around the side streets of that gawd-forsaken area. We were mostly successful in following trail until we reached the bike path by the river, where the marks disappeared. This seems to be the Bermuda Triangle of Ta-Town. We would have given up at this point, but we could sense that the beer near was somewhere near, and when beer is involved, this pack does not give up. Besides, nnCollin knew where the BN was, so we followed him (although he neglected to mention that he knew where he was going nor did he know how to use his whistle at this point). The beer was found on a lovely broken-glass-and-dead-fish-strewn sandbar in the middle of the river. Beverages were thankfully consumed, and the pack was on its way to locate trail. We ended up being led through a field of cockleburs that covered our legs, feet and other body parts. I believe we are still discovering hiding places for the little buggers. Thinking we were close to the end, we stumbled, weeping from exhaustion, down Hydraulic for another mile. The hare pulled up to this hasher and offered a ride when the on-in was 50 feet away. Sheesh. Beer and food were consumed, songs were sung, and all was right with the world. Except for the memories of the shitty trail. On on.