Maybe you thought the big news from today’s hash would be that the
less-than-four-mile true trail took almost two hours for the pack to complete,
and the words “death march” floated lightly about the On In. But no.
The big news from today’s hash was the calamity of Rrocks Starr, so
recently returned to us, confusing a sizeable puddle lurking under an overpass midway
through the run with a Slip ‘n’ Slide, and somehow ending up with his skull on
the jagged pavement intended for his feet.
Most unfortunately, he landed with some force and cut his head, and head
wounds will bleed. Plus there was a bit
of mental confusion, which is just not the norm for one of our brightest
lights. So while Dances with Bulls,
Paint in the Ass, Oral Advocate and Air Horn rendered first aid and gave the
shirts off their backs to staunch the blood, Bionic Babe flagged down a passing
car and put in an order for an ambulance.
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| Before |
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| After |
As of Sunday morning, R.S. was well-bandaged, mostly coherent, and
being urged by the physicians to rest, eat a lot, and abstain from physical
activity, TV, books and alcohol. He
anticipates only the smallest of zippers will afflict his head, as the gash was
a surprisingly small one for all that blood.
It’s the concussion you have to worry about, but given he rebounded well
from the two previous (both skiing-induced), we may as well remain optimistic.
Back on trail... Spurt’s course,
as set by himself with assistance from Blow in the Hole and Chip Off the Old
Dick, inspired terms like, “all back-checks,” “beautifully convoluted” and “#^&%!!.” The pack spent about five minutes figuring out how to start the thing, as a for instance. One back-check seven in the second half proved especially
convoluted, as the turning was actually supposed to take place at the sixth
mark, oops, and the hounds needed several do-overs to determine that sad fact. Apparently there were a few other points of
confusion as well, so as noted – four miles (Phoenix Rising got 6.4 on his GPS)
in about 1.75 hours for the six runners who actually went the full
distance. The other half either went to
the hospital or cut the run short due to trauma, and joined the 11 walkers back
on Spurt’s deck to check watches and say things like, “Well, they ought to have
been back by now.” Somehow A.H., last seen bandaging R.S. with a
t-shirt, managed to finish as FRB.
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| Carefully navigating a puddle. |
Once they actually got back, the full contingent sprang into action, whipping
open pizza boxes (the Black Box, Red Hook and co. were open already) and
chowing down. There was also salad and
cookies and a luxury offering of Dr. Peppers.
Susan even found several takers for her darling little bananas. The sun poured down from the bluest sky,
neither A.H. nor O.A. mourned the shirts they’d turned into bandages as it was
too warm for two shirts anyway, and every now and again a very few drops of
rain puttered down from an indigo cloud.
BitH speculated as to why she always finds Spurt and Susan's hashes especially
peaceful.
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| Carelessly enjoying a sunny afternoon. |
After a hospital report from B.B., who’d handed the patient off to his
wife, and BitH, who’d handed the patient’s wallet off to his wife, Mufti
offered up a roll that included double sixes for Gale and 1,499 and 14/34 for
himself and 499 and 17/21 for his wife.
Wednesday at the Pavilion will see those run counts finally round
themselves up to whole numbers. Sam,
introduced to hashing by Paul, achieved #1 (huzzah! To the CUP!) and expressed appropriately
youthful enthusiasm for the sport. (You
see, he is what Vinny Gambini would call a yewt.) Debate as to whether R.S. had earned a run
resolved in his favor. Our Fearless
Leader reminded us that John Gurr, friend and founder, died one year ago (29
April 2013) and informed us that Dr. Pecker, PhD, has had some worrying reports
of a possibly-dodgy ticker, so remember him in your prayers or incantations.
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