Hello from the Harbor,
We begin the week’s fiasco from Mad House on Lower Seabright Avenue, one of Portholeo’s favorite watering holes. This had a lot to do with the fact no one could comprehend her ID which was military dependent courtesy of her career-Navy father which allowed her to get in at a mere 19!
That’s ancient history now, she is on the East Coast and we’re left to contend with the dive now known as Mad House. Many of you may remember it as the Knight Owl followed by The 529 (it’s Seabright Avenue address) then the disastrous Crown Royal followed by the short-lived Seabright Lounge and now the Mad House. The common thread running through the tapestry of tragedy is the commonality of creepiness. Always dark with sticky floors (don’t look down) is the glue that has held this place in high esteem among serious drinkers for decades.
Sadly, this time we seem to have run afoul of an on-going construction project. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors are being slapped up against the wall in the area formerly occupied by the pool table, apparently now relabeled the ballroom (not to be confused with the guy’s bathroom). A stage has been constructed, or at least a raised platform, where we assume the band and/or DJ will position themselves. While no one was especially looking forward to hashing an Occasional Rapist & Shallow Hole trail, we didn’t really want to hang around to see what kind of nightlife slithered in the door after dark either.
The hare-pair, after a brief discussion with dBASED, (NEVER a good omen) delivered their Instructions of Trail and outed themselves onto Seabright. These hares are fluent in cliche. Spooge Bath-No Pants has graced us with his appearance again and has brought a former Virgin of his with him, Just Matt. No one seems to remember much about him, a good indication he was basically worthless to us. Just Brian has wandered in wearing flip-flops. He says he was unable to find any running shoes so he’ll stay behind to await our return. Needless to say no one opted to return here after trail.
After the passage of the appropriate amount of wasted time, Banana Basher called the five-hundred and eight-ninth meeting of this illustrious organization to order and asked we identify ourselves. On-out!
Trail was bizarrely constructed. It was quite a while until on-on was sounded south on Seabright only to encounter a check again on the corner with Marine Parade. On-on was sounded on-left to 1st Avenue where another check was found. On-on continued on Marine Parade but found another check at 2nd Avenue which was, not surprisingly followed by yet another check at 3rd Avenue. Not to mention the fact there were not three marks between these checks, why the hell WERE there so many checks? The answer we received at Beer Check was that the hares thought they needed as much lead time as possible. These checks-every-block comprised the first strange section of trail.
Anyway, an authentic hare arrow turned the troops on-right onto 4th Avenue only to discover another check a block later at Atlantic Avenue. We’re quickly running out of exit strategies for our hare-pair. Bounded by the Harbor on one side and Monterey Bay on the south, these hares must have a trick hidden in their long ears to get out of this one. Spooge Bath sounds false markings on-down towards Aldo’s so the flock flies on-down into the parking lot for the Harbor but finds no marking. Something is seriously amiss with marker. Eventually Puff wanders towards Aldo’s and finds Spooge Bath’s false mark is really a hare arrow and the chase is on again. For the next twenty minutes and one mile of trail, Hash Flash will serve you better than the written word.
The gang went on-down the ramp to the water taxi that shuttles around the Harbor. We stumbled on board, everyone on one side of course seriously threatening the stability of the craft, and listed to port all the way across the harbor to the boat launch ramp where the boat’s steering system failed. Most of the passenger’s abandoned the craft (rats deserting the sinking ship?) but we were too lazy and waited until the crew affected repairs. The Harbor Police deemed it necessary to inspect repairs to insure the seaworthiness of the craft. Everyone hoped they did not recognize any of us. After we put back out, we went right back to Aldo’s for a short test run before the cops would release us into the wilds of the Upper Harbor. Our destination was X1 Dock which is well above the bridge spanning the Harbor.
Being deemed seaworthy, we set out a warp speed in pursuit of our hares. While a scenic trip up the Harbor, too many hounds got seasick and the others were worried that we would sink and they cannot swim. Upon reaching X1 Dock, all happily disembarked after thanking the captain for an eventful ride and turned on-left heading for the top of the Harbor area.
Once to the top of the Harbor flour forced the flock on-left and then on-right into Arana Gulch Greenbelt. Now for the second strange trail configuration. At the entrance to Arana Gulch was a check. Check solved, trail went on-left an on-up. However, rather than heading through the field, we ended up circle-jerking on-left and coming right back to the check at the entrance. This time we crossed directly over to Arana Creek where a short but steep on-up brought us to a narrow strip of land overlooking the Upper Harbor and, more importantly, Beer Check.
Religion was twenty-two steps from the site of Beer Check. Tiny Whiny Bitch was elected Mob-Rule Religious Adviser and he committed the following acts upon an unsuspecting pack: Choka-cola was appointed Beer Fairy; TIMMY was convicted of using technology on trail and Hairy Fuck was punished for ratting him out; Spooge Bath was punished for forgetting the difference between a hare arrow and false markings; those that shortcutted and missed the boat ride were punished: Banana Basher, Vince Lamblowme and dBASED; Hugh was given a final salute for winning the Watermelon Head Award at Wharf to Barf; Vince for never haring; Broke Bench Mountain for the completion of his 150th hash with Surf City and Banana and Puff for the incredibly foolish completion of their 575th hash with Surf city.
On, yeah, the hare-pair. This trail lasted longer than a Las Vegas wedding. Who allowed these two to pair-up? Half-minds one and all, we continually prove that knowing better is never enough. Apparently, Shallow Hole is stubborn and arrogant for no purpose beyond her own vanity. At on-on-on, Occasional Rapist asked me to loan her money for a beer. Lending money to her in a bar is like loaning a cube of sugar to a horse. Just remember dBASED, no matter how cute she is, somewhere there’s a guy that’s sick and tired of her!
On-on-on was at Harbor Cafe and featured a free band and a five dollar beer and taco special.
By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty “G”, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the seventh day of July in the year of our Hash two-thousand eleven.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen