Mace Report -On the Road
Starting a new decade w the Cincinnati hash
The morning started early at the W place and had me tied up past the hares away time in the evening.
Sin City hash has the best website that I have seen in a decade. After arriving ultra fashionably late, I discovered the party at the location described on website. After my first community beer, I deducted that the inhabitants of the party had not read the website and I was invited to vacate the premises. Upon vacation, I noticed a neon flour and chalk marking true trail.
I was well prepared to meet the local club and had brought two large bottles of booze and a local IPA sixer. I began to track the group with two plastic bags in tow, creating a dilemma. Unable to enter pubs for fear of losing the swag, I followed trail all the way to the scene of a forced entry that was caused by my misreading of trail.
Alone with the 6 pack, all 7 of us took to the alleyways to expeditiously reach some of the most beautiful cathedrals and civic structures in the rust belt. After reaching the casino a mile or two away, apparently the hares decided to quit marking entirely. A local man in a nearby alley was yelling something similar to On On but after closer inspection, it was determined that he wasn’t my kind of preferred crazy.
I used my Zen superpowers to find the beginning of trail again and found the circle in a weight room of an apartment. The RA gladly reopened circle and the plastic grocery bags of grog were opened to the delight of the hounds. The chili served in the weight room was both delicious and did not cause diarrhea within 12 hours, which was a classy way to start the new year.
Hares pointed me in the direction of the On after and informed me of two runs for the following day. After arriving to NYE party in the suburbs and watching balls drop at midnight, I was invited to play a game called “3 man”. I woke up in the basement 4-10 hours later.
The hosts prepared a lovely meal and pointed me towards Kentucky at noon or Dayton at 2. I found my keys at 12:15 and took it as an omen to go to the nearby suburb of Dayton. I also discovered that while Cincinnati was named after a Roman dictator: Dayton was not a suburb and actually an hour away.
The RA of Dayton hash texted me in advance and also made adequate appeasement to the spirit of Gispert. It was the most incredible day to be outside with a crisp 62 degree and not a cloud in the sky. I recommended that the Dayton RA become a professional weatherman, but he politely admitted it was all part of his job.
This time I was doing Ohio hashing the right way and actually running trail with other people. Trail was phenomenal and included: annoyed parents at playgrounds, a jog past a strip club literally off the railroad tracks named “sugar melons”, and a giant NO TRESSPASSING sign that we could all gather around.
And like all other good hash stories, circle ended when the cops showed up. Luckily, there was a nearby pub that would exchange money for goods such as barley and ham burgers made from cow.
The start of my decade ended with 24 hours of pure hash life and an old Scottish hymn about taking a cup of kindness for days gone by. We exchanged the word kindness for beer after a while. Then we traded a cup in for a pitcher, for Auld Lang Syne.