Trail 764 started off at Sante Adairius Rustic Ales, because apparently we’re all hipsters now. We appreciate a beverage that goes well with a pair of skinny jeans and an ironic mustache. They have beers with names like “Lucybelle,” “Maiden Fields,” “West Ashley,” and “Saison Bernice.” You know, real manly stuff. It’s also beyond Siri’s ability to get you to this chic watering hole. That’s so weird because it’s between a frontage road, a trailer park, and some creepy commercial space, just where everyone expects to find a place to drink after work.
Trail was brought to us yet again by husband and wife team dBASED and Occasional Rapist. They were flummoxed the week before when the incomparable trail brought to you by Bacon Queef, Fap Jack, and your intrepid scribe covered “about 2/3 of the trail they had planned,” and they were off camping all week with no time to scout a new trail. Boy did it show.
We wound back out of the bizarre little enclave that hides St. Addy’s and into a complex. There were some folks chillin’ with a few brew by the hot tub, having so much more fun than the pack. From there it looked like we might head back into another hobo jungle, but that was all just a clever rouse to slow us down before spitting us back onto the streets. We hit the first of the few checks on arduous trail and ended up heading south on the frontage road. Fap Jack and I went down that way for quite some time before getting bored and giving up, so everything else I say about trail is only rumor. I hear that trail eventually veered off the monotony of the frontage road in favor of the monotony of some railroad tracks, and that on those tracks dBASED was snared not once, but twice by his own offspring, Hot Wheels. I see pictures of people running on New Brighton State Beach, so through my powers of deduction, I say trail probably went through there. I met back up with the pack as trail came back around toward the brewery to a beer check down a side street. We were too loud for the neighbors and had to pack it in and head for religion.
TIMMY!! served as RA and chose Waxipad as his beer fairy. Then it was time for down downs. Our GMs were called up for making us circle up in mud puddles. All of the harriettes got very excited when TIMMY called up Virgin Ben and gave him his choices, but all we got was a lame joke. Hot Wheels and dBASED debated the merits of the snare. The hares drank for their shitty trail.
It was a pretty typical religion, until Moose Knuckle (extreme backslider) announced an auction for who could drink the most cans of down down beer in order to win a t-shirt. Well this is America after all, land of doing-whatever-it-takes-to-win-a-t-shirt. There were several bidders, but it was Fuckedover Fest who finally got to down six cans of warm, shitty beer in order to win a shitty t-shirt. Then it was off to Burger for on on on and a chance to soak up some of that beer.