Run #534, March 8th, 1997
Sheep Dogs: Kaptain Krash, Back Seat Box, Wonder Bra
Venue: Fernbank Museum, N. Druid Hills
So, after Wonderbra shook everyone's hand and assured the 14 virgins and 6 first-time Pinelakers that, indeed, they were about to have a good time, a couple of the hares sped off to lay the first part of the hash live. The pack sceptically watched them round a bend towards the museum, then resumed grazing. We started running after a few minutes.
Catamite and myself followed the trail behind the museum and confidently checked down to the creek, where we were sure trail was inevitably headed. The pack, however, found trail up the hill in the opposite direction, so we were forced to cut sideways across a tricky ivy-covered hill, down to the creek, then back up to where trail was. Of course, trail promptly veered back down to the creek and across. And no, you can’t have some of what I was smoking. Catamite bogarted it.
Up a quick hill, through someone’s driveway, then out to a road, and it was feeling pretty sultry for springtime. Redneck Mutha and Swamp Rat didn’t look phased in front of me, so I kicked into high gear past some first-timers, coming dangerously close to both being a racist and shitting a lung. The uphill road climb finally ended, and we were in some woods again. A check in the woods ended up going down a fenceline and down into a creekbed, then up a hill to a three-way fence intersection with a ladder and blanket thoughfully provided for barb-wire negotiation. There was much idiocy as hashers looked back for tricky trail, seeing this as a too-easy traverse --- but indeed, trail resumed over the fence and down a little step-stool on the other side. Holy Dick and I shortcut into someone’s back yard, where he came to a screetching halt and yelled "Don’t run across their fresh grass!!" I relented, and we both sidetracked around it, trampling the flowers in the garden surrounding the fresh grass. A woman started to emerge from the back door, but we didn’t have time to chat.
Trail headed towards Fernbank elementary, and a check led around the park and into some woods, then to the RR tracks for the beer stop. After a quick pit stop, the trail mercifully resumed off the tracks on a road paralleling them. Flour followed the road up a hill and into some woods, where a masterful CB7 screwed everyone except Down Under, Hot & Sloppy and Tailgunner, who had stayed back at the road. Of course, we were back on the RR tracks in no time, for about a fucking eon. Waaaaaaah.
We screwed around forever at the check at the end of the tracks, finally finding true trail to the right, and ended up on McLendon for a nice long downhill, the first of the day I think. We cut right into a park, where a check messed with Fahrvergnugen’s mind ("4 marks then a backtrack! No god-damn’ way!"), and headed straight through some woods, and out into some oriental garden dealy-bob under construction. Then it was into a cool glowstick-lit tunnel under Ponce, with Fergie Dick in front of me, his pack knocking god knows what off the ceiling and onto me. After some fun slogging through the creek behind the museum, the trail ended on up a hill and into Wonderbra and Public Screw’s back yard. Love, Niplets.