Founder's Day Trail – 10/22/06 – Richmond Hash #682

11:00 AM – I wake up, fully clothed, to the sound of R.U.F.U.S.' one-man rendition of Cats. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate his art and considerable talent; I just didn't know why the hell he was in my apartment. Then I remembered that the night before T-Shirt party III went off like a Korean a-bomb. So, I took off my shoes and got out of bed.

12:00 PM – Hoot and Open Whore Policy call, we go to brunch at Buddy's as is Sunday tradition. One bloody mary and a vodka soda later 71-1 and Clean Clam show up for a rousing conversation about sex toys and lube. 71-1 dumps his Beer Miester duties on me once again.

2:15 PM – Another bloody and a fine egg sandwich later, This One Time shows up with A.A.R.P. to whisk R.U.F.U.S. and I away to what would be the best hash ever (note: every hash is the best ever). All I have to say about This One Time's car is don’t piss it off. Do not taunt the hybrid. We load up the left over keg from T-Shirt Rockfest III and hit the road.

3:00 PM (or so) – Finally the moment I have been waiting the entire week for. We unload in the parking lot and I am immediately overcome by the glory of our founding fathers from Madrid, Swamp Snake and Swamp Rat. Swamp I-Feel Tower is there and so is Swamp Gus Gus Duck, Swamp Whacked Sabbath, Swamp Quack Whacker, and Swamp R.U.D.Y. I get the swamp keg out of the swamp hybrid and realize I didn't bring any swamp cups…no matter, you wankers are supposed to bring your own vessels anyway. Well you didn't, I'm not going to hold your hand through this process.

A handful of folks trickle in, including the ever-elusive Hoot and Open Whore Policy who have just returned from an excursion to the local shoe store. I could smell the estrogen from miles away. Just when my day couldn't get any better I received the gift of my new girlfriend. Though she doesn't have any orifices and is only about 18" high she does dress like a slut and has soft beautiful grey velvet skin.

4:00 PM – Circle finally starts, led by Gus Gus our associate, Jr., assistant something or other. That's right, It's Twue It's Twue doesn't bother to show up until later. Open and Hoot lead us in a lackluster rendition of Father Abraham (they were a little worn out from all the shoe shopping and therefore are forgiven) and trail goes that way. J.K. also showed up about this time.

Trail – Ahh, what a wonderfully laid romp through streams and bamboo. I will say that spray chalk should be avoided at all costs. Aside from the fact that you can't see the stuff it is also causes HPV and I believe that the owner of Spray Chalk Inc, is a major contributor to N.A.M.B.L.A. Sorry I-Feel, I know you can't help the rain. For future reference just let me know and I will talk to my people about that.

The first beer stop was a real treat on top of a 1000 foot tall pile of red clay. Hokie Pokeme was suffering from altitude sickness so Grilled Chicken and I did some freestyle running down the wayward side of the slope. Note: I was trashed at this point.

The trail itself was fantastic. Mud, creeks, rocks, bamboo, culverts, creeks, mud, etc. Typical of an I-Feel trail the air temperature topped out at about 50 degrees (seriously, I know people that can take care of that).

The second beer stop certainly deserves a nomination at the next AGM. Deep in the woods we found and abandoned johnboat ironically dubbed "S.S. Minnow." Rednecks are funny. R.U.D.Y. and Grilled Chicken rescue it from its watery grave and I dub him Captain Admiral Chicken of the Sea. Hokie and I then get into an argument about whether the debris on the water is detritus or flotsam. But then the fun began in earnest.

Grilled Chicken and I had a showdown to end all showdowns. 2 men, 1 johnboat in the middle of the woods, and 2 cans of Modello. We rocked the boat (both literally and figuratively) while racing to finish our Mexican swill (Chango?). As you all know, I am very nimble. Chicken is also quite nimble and as my freestyle running partner knows all of my moves. We rocked and chugged while onlookers cheered. It was a heated battle until Grilled Chicken finally faltered and lost by a hair. Though the outcome was certain from the beginning he put up a good fight and I emerged victorious in the boat rocking/chugging Mexican piss contest. Also, I am really hammered at this point. I try to sing songs I don't know and get a slap on the wrist from J.K.

Sometime later – The hash continues through more creeks and shoe sucking mud. I fantasize briefly about mud sex but quickly rule it out due to gravel and sand. A.A.R.P. and I emerge from said swamp only to see Swamp Rat, Swamp Snake, It's Twue It's Twue and Watch Me Wiggle standing on the overpass laughing as I fall down (did I mention that I may have been slightly impaired at this point?). We crawl out and A.A.R.P. tries to bite someone. Realizing that we are nearing the end A.A.R.P. and I start bookin' it. About a ¼ mile down the road we go back into the woods and subsequently get lost. NO MORE SPRAY CHALK!!! Whacked Sabbath and R.U.D.Y. quickly catch up while A.A.R.P. and I are just about to get it on. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes, we find the trail and realize that we are only 50 meters or so from the end.

Somehow my drunk ass ends up as FRB, that is if you don't count the hares who auto-hashed their way to the end. We did some down-downs and J.K. celebrated his 460th, A.A.R.P. had her 13th, and someone else had a milestone or something. R.U.F.U.S.? Did a keg stand and I drank out of my new shoe (which was filled with leaves, sand, and mud). Also that was the 3rd hash in a row to which I wore new shoes and the first time I got caught….IN YOUR FACE RICHMOND!

The on after was held at one of the swamp founder's swamp house. I couldn't figure out who was Snake and who was Rat. At this point it really didn't matter because whoever it was (the guy with the mustache) didn't have any daughters. His bathroom was hidden behind a bookcase in his house that only opened when you pulled down the torch. He did however have a hot tub. Knowing my level of inebriation and propensity for passing out in hot tubs, I deftly avoided the repeated attempts of drunk hormonal hashers to get me in (or get in me in?) the tub. We dined on dogs and burgers generously provided by our Swamp host and his Swamp wife while sucking down what was left of my warm keg. At this point things took a turn for the worse as I sobbed to Quack Whacker about how cool I am. I also accepted this crappy mismanagement position while I was drunk and had to call Twue this morning to confirm that I am actually the new On-Sex….

IN YOUR FACE BIZZLE!

Don't expect any more books in the future. I thought I would start off with a bang. Also, I'm at work right now and have spent the last hour writing this recap. If I weren't still drunk I might actually be doing something productive.

Best trail ever.

~Gammy McProlapse