Can the second annual H4 invasion result in anything other than an abortion of a trail? They both had one thing in common…..GTO…..So, apparently not.
To be fair, it started out well enough. The early morning rain stopped as GTO, Camo, VR, Fister, and Just Minion set out to hare what was promised to be “a trail of cool stuff right out the Thunderbird’s front door.” The hares on time departure (in an attempt to give a reasonable depart-for-DC time) was fated to fail. Didn’t anyone see the Savannah peeps start their 2:30pm hash at 3:30pm the day previous? The pack set out at 10:30 and was immediately confused by the first check as we back-n-forthed across a four-lane road three times. Skirting a posh homeless camp on a hill (with it’s own national flag), we found bier marked by South of the Border art. On to a shot in the middle of Narnia under majikal wisteria. Nemo was good enough to confuse gypsum (which F5 promptly snorted) on RR tracks with flour to lead us on a non-existent trail. The pack scoured the area with Frenchy & Saigon backtracking 200m looking for a break in the fence. They were on the right track, but didn’t go that extra 40m. Apparently, it was a CB33….who expects hashers to count that high? Or to read numbers made of flour in the drizzle? Ironic that Saigon photographed the exact break in the fence on way to the CB33. The locals led us along the tracks to pop out at a good place for heading back to town, but not before Pebbles ‘saved’ a turtle. The turtle made it’s way to where it was all by itself, did it really need ‘saving?’ Frenchy & Daddy’sDick finally picked up the turkey trail, which was where Daddy called it a day. The rest of us continued even though we missed the entire eagle trail (well, except for the turkey/eagle re-merge). I’ll take the hares’ word for it that there was lots of cool stuff. Past the train museum to a Revolutionary War marker denoting multiple failed attempts by the Colonials to roust out the British. Into the walking district with Fister waiting oh-so patiently w/ a recycling bin of bier next to a fountain. Then straight back to the start where FRB/FBI combo Saigon & GetsOffEasy found a bunch of short-cutting bastards well into their second bier. There was more rain, an oblong circle under cover, songs way too loud for hotel guests, tales of a “mulch explosion” in QueenOfTheJungle’s panties the day previous (followed by a wicked case of PI, like nothing this scribe has ever seen, a few days later), violations, and the naming of a dog. Just Minion is now GlitterSh*tter. I’m sure there’s a lot of other crap that happened in the Savannah crowd as it seems they were all too hung-over from the previous night to do anything other than stumble along as an eccentrically-dressed, rag-tag group of degenerates, but the Scribe wasn’t with them and they didn’t rat each other out.