Jesus Descent into Hell Hash -August 30, 1999Room 307 at the Quality Inn was having a party, and I would have done much better drinking beer with a foursome of golf guys talking about their or any other game, even though they had beer bellies, rather than following Jesus on her sinful path down to mental and physical destruction. For no sooner had we left the asphalt or it was a sheer descent down a cliff with Hash lemmings jumping down happily into the great nothingness, but not yours truly, who hesitated mightily and had no choice but to follow these idiots or be left behind, so with abject fear in my eyes I jumped into the arms of Roadkill assisted by Big Brother and knees shaking got down to the bottom, only to be faced with a 75° scale upward, clawing onto to tree roots for dear life not looking backwards the only thing saving me, or courage would have left me altogether. So after this harrowing des- and ascent we stumbled on to a bucolic little trail, through cows and their patties and Bullit being the only bull, which was good for Phart because he had red shorts. A general sneezing orgy ensued and eye drops were handed out by P'NGuin, but if you thought that this was the end of the torture you were sadly mistaken because we now had to descend another clifflike decline, and the only thing that helped me here was hanging on to Big Brother's big rubber hose and from there on it was God help those who scramble down on their own and no help or succour from Jesus at all. Well, after this adventure I have been seeing my chiropractor 3 times a week, already having similar weekly appointments with the physiotherapist for my computer arm and dangling down a ravine hanging on by a hose didn't help that much either, plus I had red clay on my formerly white bra. Well some lousy downdown drinks did not do much to erase this nightmarish experience, try as we might. So Knickerbocker was fêted because of her upcoming Bermudian bridal party, rowdy hashers singing the wedding song and Clot urging her to swallow, since this seems to be the lot of wives. And in the same vein Deep Throat got fingered because she went left rather than down on Bullit. And to Jesus for a Lo-quality run! Into the Quality Inn which was not ready for Hashers and never will be, since it was being painted and it was not clear which was the Mens and which was the Ladies, but the one with the urinals obviously wasn't for me. Well 2Jugs got things confused by ordering 3 jugs, and for the first time in their life Hashers returned the beer, (some of it half drunk) because it was undrinkable. Well you can imagine how awful it must have been although not as bad as the hash beer apparently, and the paint-fumed wings didn't fly too well either but Ian the owner gave us a discount in the end. Nevertheless, the entertainment was good, with Deep Throat dancing to cat calls with a carnation in her teeth, and had it been a rose she would have been nekkid, more kisses for Knicker, hash hymns and a birthday song for Robin from NY who celebrated her 40th but still looking good to inebriated hasher males.