Meanwhile, in Belfast:
Another entry in the Suspicious White Powder files! Click on the screenshot to read the full story.
Update (5/19/15): A day later and the mystery has only deepened!
Meanwhile, in Belfast:
Another entry in the Suspicious White Powder files! Click on the screenshot to read the full story.
Update (5/19/15): A day later and the mystery has only deepened!
Hash Jive & Pearl of the Andes’ Inca Trail II was everything the pack had hoped for … and feared … and then some. Trail started in the Basha’s parking lot on Kolb and Sunrise, up in the foothills of the Santa Catalinas. If anyone thought beforehand there wouldn’t be hills, they knew better by the time they arrived at the start, which was surrounded by the damn things.
We paused for the group photo you see below before Hash Jive and Pearl strapped on their flour bags and mounted their bicycles. Present and accounted for were Wankers Aweigh, Loose Nut, Arthur Gash, Fuck Me, Flying Booger, Pick’n'Flick, Green Flagger, Snot Rocket, and a first-timer from the jHavelina H3, Two Fingers.
After giving the hares their token head start, the pack took off on trail, heading south and west into the hills. There were several up sections, but overall the first part of trail went gradually down, then steeply down, an ominous sign on an A to A trail because you know what goes down must eventually come up, but hey, it was fun while it lasted, and it lasted a long time, all the way to the dry riverbed we call the Rillito, where we rode west and then back east along the north and south banks.
Most of the pack made it to the Rillito, I should clarify. Unknown to us, Pick’n'Flick and Snot Rocket had lagged behind, and thus Pick’n'Flick was able to snag the hares as they began to lay trail uphill from the Rillito. As for the rest of us, we were following trail along the Rillito, hurrying to find flour before the ground squirrels ate it all.
Along the way we began to pass trail marks that didn’t look like they were laid by our hares. It turned out Inca Trail II crossed portions of yesterday’s jHavelina H3 trail, which had been laid by Two Fingers, so she was able to keep us from getting confused. Later on the south bank of the Rillito, Inca Trail II crossed parts of the PISS H3 trail I had laid two Sundays back. This town is getting too small for all the hashes in it!
Still, we managed to follow the correct trail, which had penguins to distinguish it. I thought maybe penguins were an Inca thing, but it turned out the hares drew them for Arthur Gash. Yeah, I’m confused too. It’s a Gash thing.
As we started back up from the Rillito (we had no idea just how much uphill was still to come) we followed Beer Near marks into a shopping center parking lot, where the hares, along with their captor Pick’n'Flick, were waiting for us on a restaurant patio. Talk about your upscale beer check: linen napkins and table service and all. I could get into this Inca thing!
Since we had ridden eight miles by this point, we decided to ride back to the start with the hares. After all, it was less than three miles back, according to our treacherous hares. And that’s where the Incas got their revenge, because it was up, up, up all the way back. I for one have never worked so hard on a bicycle. Fuck me pedaled so hard she shredded her chain and had to be rescued by a total stranger with a pickup truck. And it was a bit more than three miles back to the start, as it turned out: my finishing mileage was just under fourteen.
But hey, we all made it back, and no one cheated by taking a ride from Loose Nut, who beat us all back to the start and then doubled back on trail in his van, offering to rescue anyone who was near death. On-afters were at the Risky Business pub next to Basha’s, where we were joined by Zorro, who broke his bike and couldn’t make the actual trail.
Inca Trail II was a truly shitty trail. Thank you, Hash Jive and Pearl of the Andes!
Arthur Gash & Fuck Me will hare the June Pedalfiles, and Loose Nut is doing July. Stand by for announcements and details!
Another good turnout for the PISS Hash, even though it’s starting to get hot in southern Arizona:
Gracing the parking lot of Bashas’ Supermarket this morning were the hares, DFB, Bareassed Her, & Flying Booger. The pursuing pack consisted of Half Hash with sons Thor & SonofaBeach, Hot Legs & Wankers Aweigh, CD & Tucson Slew, H.M.Ho, Pick’n'Flick, Zorro, Zorro’s Other Mark, Yoda & Appendage, Master Meat Finder and her virgin guest NHN Martha.
Trail was short and mostly followed hiking and riding paths along the Rillito, leading to a beer check in a small park on the south bank near Columbus, where DFB & Bareassed Her provided mimosas, bellinis, beer, and soft drinks. The on-in portion of the trail led the pack to the home of DFB & Bareassed Her’s son, who thankfully wasn’t home to see the mess we made of his kitchen. We don’t often do A-to-B trails in the PISS Hash, but this one was laid out so that it formed about two-thirds of a circle, with the on-in only a half-mile from the on-out.
Barrassed Her drove members of the pack back to Bashas’ to fetch cars and the food they’d brought along to share, while DFB flipped pancakes in the kitchen. When everyone was back at the on-in, we ate and drank and talked and had so much fun the circle almost didn’t happen, but Flying Booger remembered long enough to lead a down-down for Virgin Martha, who got the idea of chugging her beverage right off the bat. She’s a natural, and we told her to look up the kennel in Des Moines when she gets home.
Hot Legs & Wankers Aweigh will be our hares in June. The date for next month’s PISS Hash is Sunday, June 7th, and due to the increasing heat start time will be 8:30 a.m. We’ll meet at the hares’ house on the west side. Directions and additional info will be coming soon, so keep an eye on our Facebook page.
Thanks to everyone for coming out today and braving the heat. It was a good hash and an even better crowd, and that’s what the PISS Hash is all about. On-on to June!
Rescue forces on Guam were called in last night to search for an overdue hasher. If I remember correctly, Guam hashes at 4:00 p.m. every Saturday; according to the article someone called the Guam Fire Department at 8:30 p.m. and the missing hasher was found at 10:40 p.m. The hasher was taken to a hospital, but I don’t know if the hasher was injured or if the trip to the hospital was merely precautionary.
Last year Guam rescue personnel searched for, and eventually found, as many as 70 hashers who had gone missing on a single trail (there’s some dispute over the number who were actually lost). The rescue effort went on into the wee hours of the next day, and eventually everyone was found.
When I was GM of Okinawa H3, sometime in 1990 or 1991, an Air Force guy running with Guam H3 died of heat exhaustion on trail. I remember worrying that something similar could happen on Okinawa, which is almost as hot and humid as Guam.
I guess what I’m saying is if you visit Guam and go hashing, bring water, sunscreen, and an emergency locator beacon.
No, seriously, what I’m saying is that in some big hashes I’ve run with, a missing hasher could easily be overlooked. And if no one knows you’re still out in the shiggy, no one will come searching for you. That’s why, at least in a big hash, it’s important to check the sign-in sheet and do a head count at the on-in. Guam obviously does this, and they don’t hesitate to call in rescue forces when hashers go missing, so good on them!
Are there any Guam hashers reading this who can provide more details?
Update (5/6/15): Ask and ye shall receive … a Guam hasher fills us in on the details of this and earlier incidents in the comments section!
The Pedalfiles Bash was founded in October 2006 by Tucson jHavelina hashers Casual Friday and Bimbo by Day. Casual and Bimbo served as co-GMs for the first two or three years, but then both founders moved away. Periodically, though, one or both come back to southern Arizona and we always try to have a founder’s bash when they do. The last one was in October 2014, the Pedalfiles’ eighth on-oniversary, when Bimbo by Day graced us with a appearance. This time around it was Casual Friday. Naturally, we roped her into haring.
Start was at Shooter’s Steakhouse, an old Pedalfiles hangout, not too far from which there’s a business with an eerily pedophiliac logo over its front door. Arthur Gash … who else? … was the one basher to notice it, and he stopped to take this incriminating photo.
But back to the bash. We had a very good turnout yesterday. I was Casual Friday’s co-hare. Bashers in the pack included Wankers Aweigh, Yoda, Appendage, Loose Nut, No-Name Bill, Captain Crotch, My Clit Talks, Stud Muffin, Arthur Gash, You Have to Fuck Me to Find Out, Deep Dish, Napoleon, Pick’n'Flick, Hash Jive, and Pearl of the Andes. Joining us at on-afters were Hot Legs and This End Up.
After the blessing of the hares, trail ran north from Shooters to the Rillito bikeway, where Flying Booger went into stealth mode while Casual Friday laid a long checkback that managed to lure every single member of the pack in the wrong direction, even including Pick’n'Flick, who knew from listening to FB and Casual talk about scouting trail which way was the right way. Casual knows how to lay a convincing false lead.
FB, meanwhile, continued laying true trail west to Mountain, then south to the U of A campus and on to Schreier’s Sports Pub on 6th St, a new hash bar in Tucson, for a beer check. Arthur Gash wanted a camel on trail, so Casual obliged.
The second half of the trail led back north to Shooter’s by a different route, with FB once again laying true trail while Casual laid BTs and checkbacks. Total trail length was just over 12 miles, but the pack put in 14+, mostly thanks to Casual’s long checkback at the start.
Casual Friday, as one of the two founders and GMs for life, led the circle at Shooter’s, including the naming of No-Name Bill, who really deserved one seeing as how he co-hared with Wankers Aweigh on his very first Pedalfiles bash a few months ago. From this day onward let no Pedalfiles basher call him No-Name Bill; henceforth he is to be known as Subatomic Equipment.
Pick’n'Flick was our only mechanical casualty on trail, suffering a flat tire just after leaving the beer check. Fortunately, there’s a local bike shop just a few doors down from Schreier’s, and she was able to buy a new tube and have it installed. Better a little late to the circle and on-afters than to miss all the fun.
Hash Jive and Pearl graciously offered to hare the next Pedalfiles Bash, which will be on Sunday, May 17. Hash Jive and Pearl, who are Peruvian, promise us a true Inca trail, and that is something to look forward to … and to fear. Start time and location will be announced soon; keep an eye on the Pedalfiles Bash Facebook page for updates.
Members of the Pima Independent Sunday Social Hash House Harriers met at Tucson’s Greasewood Park this morning to follow Yoda and co-hare no-name Doug on a short but rugged trail. Thanks to earlier rain showers and lingering clouds, it wasn’t as brutally hot as it has been, but still plenty warm enough for rattlesnakes, and we were definitely on their home turf.
Alas, not a single rattler was seen, and the pack finished at a park ramada close to the car park, where we held our traditionally short PISS Hash circle.
Who was there? You probably can’t make out everyone in the photo, but they’re all there somewhere: Half Hash and his sons Thor and Son of a Beach, CD and Tucson Slew, Wankers Aweigh, Master Meat Finder, Yoda and Appendage, no-names Doug and Linda, DFB, Pick’n'Flick and Flying Booger, and a returning hasher, Casual Friday. And dogs, lots of hash dogs!
On-afters were at Rusty’s, where we were joined by Hot Legs, Deep Dish, and 3IY, and a good time was had by all.
Next month’s PISS will be hared by DFB, and we’re moving it up by one week … it’ll be on Sunday, May 3, with a start location soon to be announced.
Over the years I’ve told the story of John Wayne Bobbitt and his connection with hashing to several friends. It’s time to write it down for posterity, before Alzheimer’s sets in.
Pick’n'Flick and I moved to Nevada in 1995 and started hashing with the Las Vegas Resur-Erection H3. Later that year we were at an LVREH3 trail in the desert several miles west of town. A virgin showed up, which wasn’t unheard of, except that he’d ridden a bicycle all the way from town to get to the hash. We thought that showed commendable zeal and were looking forward to ragging him about it in the circle afterward.
We’d finished trail and were milling around at the on-in before the circle started. I noticed our daughter Green Flagger talking up the virgin. Pretty soon Green Flagger walked over to us with the guy’s credit cards and drivers license in her hand. “You’ll never guess who I was just talking to,” she said. Sure enough, the name on the cards and license was John Wayne Bobbitt, and once we knew his name, several hashers realized they’d seen his photo in the news. It was actually him.
John Wayne Bobbitt, of course, is the penis guy. In 1993, after a fight, his then-wife Lorena cut his penis off while he was sleeping, hopped in her car, drove around for a while, then chucked it out the window. Good for JWB, she felt remorse and called 911. The penis was recovered and surgically reattached to its owner. In 1993, JWB and Lorena were all over the news; the story was still getting a lot of play when we met the man in 1995.
It turned out JWB was a veteran hasher. Before he met and married Lorena he’d been a Marine, at some point stationed at a USMC base in Okinawa, Japan, where he ran with our former hash, the Okinawa H3. He served from 1987 to 1991, so very likely he was hashing with Okinawa H3 when we were (1998-1992). We probably saw him a hundred times, but didn’t know him then … there were a lot of young Marines in the Okinawa H3 in those days.
So here he was, coming off a couple of years of relative fame … a band, talk show appearances, starring roles in porn videos … and now living in Las Vegas. He was working, but he’d also made some money from the porn films, and possibly that’s what paid for his house and car. Like a good hasher, he decided to hook up with LVREH3, and we were glad to have him.
I’m not sure he would have told us who he was that day if Green Flagger hadn’t wormed it out of him. Eventually, yes, but not at his first circle. Of course we were concerned that he and Green Flagger (who was just 18 or 19 at the time) had hit it off and we tried to keep her away from him, but she insisted he was harmless. Pick’n'Flick and I talked to him at length that first day, and at a few hashes afterward, mainly to make sure he didn’t have designs on our girl. Thankfully, he didn’t.
What was he like? He came across as a nice, modest, self-effacing guy. Polite, like many young Marines I’ve met. He wasn’t reluctant to tell his story, but only if you asked him to, and he always took full blame for everything that happened. Although he was well-spoken, he didn’t come across as especially bright. He told Pick’n'Flick he thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. She thought he was joking at the time.
One clue we might have picked up on that first day, but didn’t, was that he made a 20+ mile round trip through the desert and up into the foothills on a bicycle just to get to the hash. We found out later he was on probation and wasn’t allowed to drive. I don’t remember noticing that he had a problem with alcohol on the first hash, but it became obvious at later hashes. He’d get drunk, really drunk, on just three or four beers, stumbling around and slurring his words, eventually almost passing out.
We later learned that under the terms of his probation he wasn’t allowed to drink. His probation officer would drop in on him at home to make sure he was staying sober. Why was he on probation? He’d gotten drunk and beat up a girlfriend. The main reason he rode all that way on a bike was to have some beer, not so much to hash. As I said, we put all this together over time. He was okay when he wasn’t drinking. You didn’t want to be around him when he was, but he was apparently only violent with women. I have to say we never saw him get violent with anyone, man or woman, but if the stories we heard were true, our initial reaction … to keep our daughter away from the guy … was the right one.
After four hashes with LVREH3, JWB signed up to hare. He laid a great trail and everyone had a good time. We ended around dusk, and as we did in those days in the desert outside Las Vegas, we built a bonfire for the circle. This was the first time we saw JWB get really drunk. After drinking just two or three beers, he keeled over into the fire and we had to pull him out. A woman had driven him to the hash, but she didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with us. She sat in her car during trail and then stood off to the side during the circle. He told us later she was a porn actress. She might have been; I honestly don’t know.
LVREH3 names hashers after their sixth trail. JWB’s sixth was coming up, so I put the word out on hash-l, the email forum hashers used back in medieval times: “Come hash with us in Las Vegas on such-and-such a date and you can help us name John Wayne Bobbitt.” And hashers came. A lot of hashers came. From Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California. One hasher came all the way from New England. Several of them camped out at our house, including ZiPpy (may he rest in peace).
We knew about JWB’s issues by then, so our GM Pecker Checker contacted his probation officer beforehand. All his Vegas hashes to this point had been out in the desert, far from prying eyes. This one, though, was going to be in town near the Strip and we didn’t want to get him in trouble. Pecker Checker got permission, but had to promise JWB wouldn’t drink at the hash. As if.
And so it was in early 1996 that 12 local and 30 or 40 visiting hashers ran JWB’s naming trail in Las Vegas. The part I remember best was a beer stop at a neighborhood Circle K where we bought individual tall boys in paper bags to drink on the sidewalk before taking off again (kind of an LVREH3 tradition in those days). Two redneck types went into the Circle K while JWB was inside buying his beer, and when they came out we could hear one of them telling the other, “Dude, that was the dude!” And the other one said, “That Asian chick he fucked in that flick was super-hot!”
The naming? During the Q&A he told us the porn actors and actresses he worked with called him “Barbell” because that’s what his reattached dick looked like, with a big bulge at each end (you may or may not have wanted to know that). Well, we wanted to come up with our own name, and in the end I think we did him proud: “A Stitch in Time Saved Mine,” “Stitch” for short.
You know what? I just realized we never asked Stitch what his Okinawa hash name was! He must have had one, but we’d have renamed him anyway (I mean, really, how many chances do you get to name someone with a lost & found dick?), so I guess it doesn’t matter.
After the naming circle, instead of going to a bar for on-afters, Stitch invited us all to his house. It was just a regular tract house, nice but nothing special. He had a jacked-up 4X4 pickup truck in the driveway, which he still wasn’t allowed to drive. Inside, he had stacks of the porn videos he’d acted in … according to what he told us, it’s part of the compensation package; actors can sell them on their own, like authors who sell autographed copies of their books. And then he put one in the VCR and got more talkative than we’d ever seen him.
By that point the crowd was down to about 30 harriers and harriettes, sitting in front of the TV on Stitch’s living room floor while he told us inside gossip about the industry and some of the better-known actors and actresses. Then he pressed “play” and started narrating his own fuck flick. Which was cool until he got to the part where he said, “Now watch, I’m about to come.” I didn’t think I was a prude, but that was too much for me. I grabbed a couple of beers and went to sit in the driveway. The harriette from New England joined me, then a few others.
Stitch hared a few more hashes after his naming, all ending at his house for porn video sessions. Then, somewhere around the end of 1996, he moved away. He didn’t tell us he was leaving. We heard later he’d gone to Reno. Later yet we heard he’d become an evangelical preacher. As far as I know he never hashed again; I’m sure someone would have told if he had, since I was webmaster for the Half-Mind Catalog at the time and kept track of hash contacts all over the USA. Nope, he was just gone.
The link I included earlier in this post goes to Stitch’s Wikipedia entry, which seems to have at least one fact wrong. It says he moved to Las Vegas in 1998, where he worked as a limo driver among other jobs. He lived there when we knew him in 1995 and 1996, but it’s possible he came back later. It says he was a Universal Life minister for a while and did Las Vegas weddings. That sounds like something that would have happened a few years later; he wasn’t doing that when we knew him. The Wikipedia entry mentions a 1994 conviction for domestic battery; that would have been why he was on probation when we knew him. It goes on to list several later convictions, including one for the theft of $140,000 from a store in Fallon, Nevada, not far from Reno. All in all a pretty depressing story.
The last bit of news, which I saw today while looking up the Wikipedia link, is this, from the Daily Mail in November 2014: John Wayne Bobbitt Breaks Neck in Car Crash. Not to worry … the article says he’ll recover.
Wherever Stitch is today, I wish him well. He’s one of us, no matter what.
Update (4/12/15): If you read the comments, you’ll see that fellow Okinawa H3 veteran Hazukashii has been trying to track down Stitch’s Okinawa hashing history and original hash name. We’ve pieced together the following information: Stitch, when he was stationed on Okinawa with the USMC, ran with a military-only group called the BMT hash, not the regular Okinawa H3 Hazukashii and I ran with. Haz and I conferred separately with two other former Okinawa hashers, Grease Monkey and Communicable Disease. CD, like me, didn’t remember Stitch at the regular Okinawa H3, but Grease Monkey (who I hashed with every week on Okinawa) pretty much ran the BMT hash and remembers Stitch well. Unfortunately he doesn’t remember Stitch’s original hash name.
Grease Monkey did find his notebook from May 1998, with a notation assigning one of his young Marines, Bobbitt, to lifeguard duty.
I did not arrive on Okinawa until the summer of 1989, and Stitch may well have been gone by then, which would be another reason I don’t remember him from Okinawa … but of course I never ran with the BMT Hash either, so wouldn’t have known him then anyway.
Thanks, Hazukashii, for digging all that up!
Here in Tucson, Arizona, I’m a regular at the PISS Hash and the Pedalfiles Bash, but I’ve fallen away from the main club, the jHavelina Hash. Even so, I still consider myself one of them and I subscribe to their Facebook page, where last week a recently-departed jHavelina posted this update:
When I joined the jHavelinas in 1997, it was still a fairly new hash and not many of its members had hashed outside of Tucson. Over the years that’s changed; most members have by now done plenty of away hashes. I don’t know if that’s the case with the hasher who wrote this note, but anyway that’s not why I’m quoting her comments. I wanted to talk about bitching.
There’s good bitching and bad bitching. The hasher who thinks her new hash is a little lame shared her comments with members of her old hash in a private Facebook group. And that’s just fine. We all do that. I’m sure she didn’t insult her new friends by sharing her views in the circle at the other hash.
Here’s an example of bad bitching:
Hashing is a small world, and word gets around.
It just seems like common sense to keep your complaints about other hashes to yourself, at least when you’re at those other hashes. It’s perfectly acceptable to talk about the strange and mysterious ways of other hashes once you’re back home, swapping tales at on-afters with your mates. But is there anything more insufferable than a visiting hasher lecturing you on all the things that are wrong with your hash?
I sincerely doubt this guy has “hashed worldwide.” He sounds downright provincial.
Go back up to the letter from the jHavelina hasher who moved away. Her new hash does prelaid trails. There’s just one trail and they don’t do YBFs or boob checks. The circle isn’t as lively as the ones she’s used to. You know what? If it weren’t for the beer check and the naming, she could be talking about a run with the Mother Hash in Kuala Lumpur, an experience most hashers would kill for.
True confession: I bitched about a trail once when I was visiting a hash. It was at a Bay to Breakers hash weekend in San Francisco several years ago, at the Saturday afternoon hash before Sunday morning’s official B to B run. Trail started at UC Berkeley, went over the mountains north of Oakland, and ended in Orinda-Moraga. It was a killer, a genuine ball buster, ten miles long and utterly exhausting. I didn’t think it was a sensible trail to lay on the eve of an actual race most of the hashers there were registered to run in. And I shared my views with a couple of friends from San Francisco after the circle.
I didn’t say anything in the circle, or to the hares or the organizers. I just bitched a little to some friends. But I’ve felt bad about it ever since, and if there was a way to go back in time and un-say my complaints I’d jump on it.
I just pray no one from the San Francisco or East Bay hashes wrote their friends the next day, asking if they knew someone named Flying Booger who said he was from the jHavelina Hash and was an obnoxious whiny butt about the epic trail they’d gone to so much trouble to prepare.