Run No: 428 - 16 Aug 07 - Turd's flat (well, pump it up then) - A Bridge Too Far

Run No: 428 at Turd's flat (well, pump it up then)
.... A Bridge Too Far 

It really was a dark and stormy night this time as the TMH3 gathered for a hash that of historic proportions. On the 30th anniversary of Elvis' death, the Hunka Hunka Hares were nothing but Hounddogs as they laced up their blue-sueded hashing shoes to take the pack on a rock-a-hula trail.

The bleary-eyed and sober pack, were awakened from their mid-week slumber known as "work" and congregated at the casa De Nasi for a Thursday night hash. It seems that the hares were suffering a case of premature ejhashuation and couldn't wait the full 7 days between the hashes and put on a Thursday night hash in the dark much like the olden days of the TMH3. Just hours before the hash, it just so happened that Buddha turned to the Flying Spaghetti Monster up in Heaven, cracked open a couple beers and shared a laugh as they turned nature's pressure washer on full blast on Macau. Our Hares, Nasiturd and Hasher Trisha, shook their angry fists at the weather gods as they hunkered down waiting for a reprieve...which did come about 45 minutes before the pack was to set off. So off the hares went prelaying....errr INSPECTING (yeah, that's it...) the course and the weather gods had one last laugh as they made sure the hares just amply wet for their efforts.

The pack had showed up as instructed in the receding hareline with bathing suits in hand, little knowing that they wouldn't even have to get in the pool to enjoy this swim. But just then, the clouds parted, the seas settled, and the winds quieted down to the point you could hear a single Tsing-Tao pop open through the night air. The hares set off (suspiciously in the direction of the lift back up to Nasi's apartment may I add) and the pack drank for about another 20 minutes before remembering they were supposed to be out hashing and set off.

Now it should be noted that when I say "hares" and "pack", it actually read more like the latest football score from Chelsea with the Pack Chasing the Hares 3 to 2. Or actually, for full disclosure, it read more like a vote in the French Parliament for this trail with the score being 3 hashers to 2 hares with 2 abstaining.

The 2 abstaining were the hashers who saw this rare cool weather Macau night and decided they couldn't have that as they light up a blazing fire so the hash did get cooler than 29 degrees and forget that it was August in Macau. The combustible combination of Grandad and Shithouse were lured to trail by the promise of getting to play with a flaming inferno and dead mammals...otherwise known as a BBQ. Living up to his name, Shithouse's first act as head firebug, was to drag the BBQ up against the actual shithouse so as to seal in the extra flavor.

So the 2 halfminds cackled with delight over their mastery of the flame as NancyBoy, Mini Me, and Cunter set off into the night. The hares did an excellent job of laying trail in the given conditions but were dastardly in the deep laying of checks which in turned worked perfectly to keep the pack of 3 together. After spending a good 10 minutes working a check on the street corner by the graveyard (and looking like we must have been trying to proposition passerbys in the process), the pack was off through the junkyard and leaping puddles through the back alley in a large loop back around towards Crown. At one point, an blazing duo of apparently severe racists passed the pack as they worked a check and it was recognized that this was not just any duo, this was members of the Captain's rogue weekday runners. While sans captain, it was noted that we both needed to reign in these lost souls and to carry a beer with us on trail so that we might crash the running group, coerce them to drink, and convert the unsuspecting racists into hashers next time.

The hares' checks were not wasted as at least this halfmind spent a good time "looking for (hash) love in all the wrong places" on the trail. The R/W split went unused as the intended users stayed back at A (and drank later for this transgression of wasting the hares' well laid 50 meter long trail). The pack went around Crown, tried to solve a two way check with a CB on one end and no flour on the other way before figuring out the hares didn't really mean the CB (or that was really just to keep them from seeing the way ONIN)

So the pack continued on East towards what looked like it might be a reverse tracking of Colonics' Tour De Taipa trail from 2 weeks ago (and even with the storm the hares' probably still could have used Colonic's flour markings) but then true trail took a turn to the North along the shore and finally the (later confirmed with the honorable GDad) historic moment of the TMH3 with the first trail on the Taipa-Macau Bridge. In this moment of living up to its name, the hash ran past a large ONON and setup the hump of the bridge towards the sparkling Wynn and Grand Lisboa. For his halfmind, it was a strange case Deja Vu thinking that he was already headed home after the hash, just a little more sober this time. Nancyboy later revealed that the hares had popped his bridge cherry having never run across the bridge in all of his time here. Albeit, the combination of bus and taxi exhaust combined with the continual woosh of sideview mirrors passing 6 inches from his head might just make anyone forget running on the bridge.

It was deduced that the reason for the night hash was to be able to run the bridge and not fry like little ants under the spyglass. And for a moment the pack though the hares had a kind and caring heart, but after luring the pack up to the very top of the bridge and giving the pack the option of jumping off or pushing on to Macau, there was a lovely CB that turned the pack around and headed back to Taipa. Leaving the last bit of the virgin bridge trail for another time.

The pack got back to the base and did an on home to Nasi's Home. Where circle commenced in the lovely evening night. Nancyboy stripped off his shirt and promptly wrung a liter of the Non-Pocari kind of Sweat out of it and bemoaned that his sweat was making him cold! The circle was quite respectable for such a small turnout with some of the usual accusations (but let it be documented that we had more matching black socks than yellow shirts on this trail). Hasher Trisha committed an extremely appropriate act of treason by serving her own Nasiturd up for having new trainers on the hash two weeks ago. Cunter then was made to drink for not going forth with his suspicions of such two weeks ago (his only defense was claiming a case of Gaslight induced paranoia). Mini-me whipped out his hash-flash of fury and recorded the evening for posterity and/or blackmail's sake. There was an attempted downdown by Cunter which was quickly hijacked and reversed upon him when Cunter pointed out that almost the entire circle was of the UK and there were more Cockney accents flying about than Norwegian Blues or flying nuns. One expected to see a Corgie running through the circle with a box of Wheetabix in its mouth. However this accusation was turned abruptly around by the bloody septic tank and his poor attempt at the Queen's English.

The pack drank on into the night and it was lamented all the poofters who didn't come out for the hash and after playing elimination on all hashers either with the excuse of teachers-fleeing-the-island (ie Bush Pussy) or on vaca (ie. Betty), it was deduced the only hasher without an acceptable excuse was St Peter. Even Cheesy Helmet phoned in a performance to the hash! The two grillmasters heated our meat and Nasi and Hasher Trisha took pity on the threesome of the pack who did not follow instructions of BYOM to the BBQ and shared their delectable sausages with them.

The Golden Nectar flowed, there was witty discussion and celebration and hasher Trisha was told not to stay away for another 2 years and to come again and come often. And so it was on what turned out to be a beautiful Thursday night hash, an outstanding trail of a different type with virgin territory, and a great running of the TMH3.

ON - Now we just have to find something to hold us on for 9 days until the next hash! - ON
-Cunter Ass Thompson

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