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October 11, 1998

R*n #6:
Brookfield Metra Station
Hares: EZ Sunday

I'm Not Gay, But I Play a TV

Due to the graphic homosexual nature of the following article, small children, pregnant women, people with weak constitutions, and B.O.B. are advised to skip ahead to the next article.  Yer-Anus may claim that, ``I ain't gay, but I sure do love to ass fuck," but I know whom I am not sharing a bed with at the next River to River Relay.

After a long morning of giving away beer to marathoners, Full Term was a bit the worse for beer, having sampled much of the free product, while, in an upset, Soar Balls maintained a designated driver's level of sobriety.  After a couple turns around the block, we found the Brookfield Metra station and immediately surmised that we should assemble over by the nearest Irish bar, just across the tracks.  We were rewarded in our prescience by the arrival of one Mr. Sunday, esteemed hare, and visitor When Sally Met Chunky.  Soon Yer-Anus arrived, and Chunky's two escorts, Ultra Heinie and Da Gimp staggered out of the bar, ready for a hash.  We waited in vain for women, Speckle Bird or anyone else to arrive, but the last train was empty, so we mosied over to the big white truck of love to avail ourselves of beverage.  YA was forced to drink ice from a frozen bottle, inspiring him to proclaim (at the top of his lungs so all the God-fearing homophobes of Brookfield could hear), ``I feel like a Gerbil.  Maybe a couple."  This would not be his first unambiguously gay remark.

In explaining the marks, EZ warned us of a chest-deep river crossing.  Aaah, the good old 2nd City Hash and oodles of shiggy.  After a couple blocks of track paralleling, we crossed over and into the good old neighborhoods of Brookfield.  Da Gimp took up his role as FRB, leading us most of the way, with Yer-Anus resuming his typical short-cutting ways.  Oddly enough, EZ strayed from the syllabus of the EZ Sunday school of trail setting, eschewing his typical left turn at every split, up every hill, and backwards from every check possible, to set a largely straight trail towards the woods.  He did maintain his gentlemanly demeanor, though, escorting a beer-sotten Full Term and When Sally Met Chunky on a variety of assorted short-cuts, thereby keeping the pack together. 

Eventually, we entered the inevitable woods, which were strewn with toilet paper that did not denote trail.  After a brief sojourn through the wilderness, we reached a bevy of trails, and were remet by our wayward associate, Mr. Anus .  Now it was his turn to lead the way, as Soar Balls took an apparent wrong turn at a split which, had he continued, would have led to a beauty short-cut to the first inevitable stream crossing.  At the inevitable stream crossing, YA stayed true to his persona, r*nning a good 10 or 12 miles out of his way to keep his precious tootsies dry.  The rest of the pack found our way to some more woodsy trail, another stream crossing, and finally to the beer stop, upon which EZ uncovered the golden nectar for us.  The main problem being that there were only 3 beer drinkers, Full Term, Da Gimp and EZ himself, with both Ultra Heinie and Soar Balls making a power move for the Squirt.  Somehow we'd misplaced the hydrophobic Yer-Anus and the just plain lost Chunky.  They eventually showed up and, of course, only Chunky was drinking beer.  Yer-Anus managed to snag another ice bottle, allowing him to comment on the phallic nature of the ice remaining therein.  Strike Two.  That left 8 undrunk beers, and a sober and willing Soar Balls dangerously close to selling out his month of abstinence.  Then I realized I'd managed to give away Sam Adams all morning, no way I was selling out for a Bud.

Trail picked up again out to a street corner and pretty much straight into town.  We eventually hit the bar that was to be beer stop #2, where Yer-Anus bought a full pitcher of root beer, thinking we were done.  Well, there are no rules, so we decided we basically were done, and performed down-downs there.  EZ got the standard hare down-down tune (he's the hare, the trail kinda sucked, drink it down...), visitors got their down-down to the tune of Dos, since there were three of them, Full Term and Soar Balls got bald-brothers-wearing-Sam-Adams-hats down-downs, and Yer-Anus got a down-down for flagrantly homosexual behavior after some forgotten offense for strike three, you're out!  He did manage to finish his root beer, though, with a little help from SB.  We perambulated out of the bar and hied our way back through the streets of Brookfield to finish up so EZ could meet his lovely wife Emo Phillips to see Spik N Span perform at Zanies (or something like that).  On this final part we encountered the hill, a pile of rubble in one of Brookfield's parks, and the chest deep river crossing, which was directly under the railroad bridge and thus was passed over by all.

Back at the start, EZ passed on the cooler so he could make it to his hot date, Da Gimp, Chunky, and Ultra Heinie headed back to Dayton and Cincinnati, and the other three of us hoped that they wouldn't pass on the news of the only known gay hash in existence.  After all, this was our second straight (who said straight?) hash of the 2nd City men's club.

 - Soar Balls say:  Two small gerbils up, but I ain't saying where.

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