Guest Post: Beach Hash (from a Hare’s Perspective)
May 8th, 2008This entry was written by my friend and favorite co-hare Casual Friday, about a trail she recently laid in Tampa, Florida. I don’t know about you, but I love hash trashes, and miss being in a hash that has them. When I see a good one, like this, I want to share it with all my friends. Enjoy!
Here we go sports fans, after a few weeks of gentle prodding and taunting by the hares with videos, photos of scouting trail in bikinis, and verbal dares to catch us if you can, Saturday, April 12 had finally come. Will Sing 4 Head, Sweet I Da Ho and I took much time to meticulously plan an exciting trail on St. Pete Beach for the Jolly Roger wankers. The weather was delivered just as ordered; sunny with a sweet warm breeze, perfect for beach hashing! Our trail was to be laid 100% live; therefore Sweet I Da Ho and I got started early that Saturday. After checking into our hotel and convincing the front desk clerk to join us at Start for a fun trail later that day, we grabbed our string bikinis, our shovel, our water anchor buoy and our maps, and hit the beach. We made a quick pit stop at a condo building to steal some bricks underneath security’s radar screen and we promptly commenced digging a hole in the sand to bury a map. Many onlookers had the need to know what we were doing; each time we were asked we gave a different answer. We assumed Sheep N Easy had sent out his spies so we gave out worthless information to the so-called onlookers. After burying a map to direct the pack to the water where I swam out to place a map on an anchor buoy, it was Miller time at Woody’s beach bar for the hares.
“Go time” for Sweet I Da Ho came quickly; since it was her virgin haring, she was nervous as hell. She exhibited typical virgin hare behavior; forgot that she had put extra clothes and money for the on-afters in the beer van, panicked about where she was to lay powder even though the notes were in her pocket, dug in her pockets for an important trail accessory while she was wearing it on her wrist, and we won’t mention the nightmares she had the night before the hash. God love the virgin hare! Time to leave came quickly and the three of us took off like bats out of hell.
I Da Ho laid her part of the trail flawlessly, and kept out of sight from the pack; I was very impressed. Being her mentor, I was dang proud of myself! Okay, I was proud of her too. The .7 mile checkback Will Sing 4 Head laid as quick as any Olympic track star, worked perfectly as the entire pack fell for it and added 1.4 miles onto their trail. While nicely done, it gave me plenty of time to lay my part of trail without getting snared (I have a secret haring rep that nobody knows about). I had a blast laying powder as I ran the trail through two weddings prior to the beer check. I was covered in flour and slid through 6 groomsmen, all wearing beautiful black tuxedoes while the photographer snapped photos of my passing. Oh how I was dying to slap the one half my age on the butt with my hand covered in flour (sorry Mom)! Since I laid trail behind the chairs of both weddings, I can’t help but wonder how many wankers are in beach wedding photos and videos!
The pack was put through a song check lead by Will Sing 4 Head at Bongo’s beach bar, and everyone was treated to his awesome and powerful Pirate Juice. Wankers were then lead to Ricky T’s for a beer check and a round of “Tug-o-Hoes” on the sand. All I remember was seeing Racing Stripes ass-on-sand and hearing much laughter from Goo Light Special’s team as they let go of the rope. The photo turned out great!
Sweet I Da Ho and I took off to the north in a puff of powder as Will Sing headed northeast for his next section of trail. The pack were taken through Jimmy B’s and Swigwam’s beach bars, and converged around the map point to dig in the sand for a clue to the next direction of trail. As I had prayed they kept busy digging in the sand. I pounded pavement sucking wind while thinking kitty litter. Racing Stripes, Leave It In Beaver, and Harelip Dog were more than likely just yards behind my short wimpy stride. I stealthily pushed ahead through a street fair and was stopped by an officer of the law. Fan-freaking-tastic! He told me I ran right in the middle of a drug sting! I’d love to say I planned it, but it was just dumb luck. The officer wanted to know about the white powdery substance that covered my body, and while I had a list of possibilities to offer, I gave him the boring one. “Sir, I’m a wanker covered in flour!” Being the trained professional that he was, he spied my hash shirt and hash flour bag; laughed and told me I had better pick up my pace. I ran as fast as my spaghetti legs could take me through the drug sting, and wondered how many uniformed eyeballs were watching me in the bushes as I bent down to draw true trails on the sidewalks. So I hiked up my shorts a tad and bent over a bit more than necessary; my older sister taught me well. I had soon connected with Will Sing’s section of trail and ran it in to Finish. He did a fine job of laying that section to bring the pack on-in unscathed. Sweet I Da Ho drove the beer van to finish and we toasted to her very first hash haring as we waited for the pack to show up.

The circle was held in Just Rick’s backyard, and we gave him quite a show as we had some terrific walk-ons and virgins who were quite entertaining. I’m not sure why we hares got the brainless award, but we took it in stride while we did our best to get three pairs of lips around the top of the skull and suck in some nectar of the Gods all at once. I won the wet t-shirt contest.
I was told the pack never found the map in the sand because Bed and Buckfest was sitting on it while digging a hole the size of a quarter for a photo opportunity. She sure looked pretty cute in the photo not knowing the map was in the crack of her ass! At least the pack got to see the results of the drug sting; apparently St. Petersburg’s finest handcuffed quite a few dealers on trail that evening. Funny how Dab showed up a bit late. The next morning the stolen bricks used for the water anchor were returned to the condo after I risked life and limb in hurricane winds and waves 10,000 feet high to retrieve my $20 anchor and $10 waterproof container. There were curious onlookers but not one sorry bastard wondered if I was okay while I was bound to 100 pounds of stone I drug behind my 120 pound frame. I suppose Will Sing and I Da Ho’s cheering my ass on the sand didn’t give anyone cause for alarm.
As usual, I can’t wait to hare again!
. . . and if reading Casual Friday’s writeup gives you the hots to hare, all the better!
















