Hash House Harriers assembled on the pool deck of the Traveler's Inn this Cinco de Mayo for the annual Red Dress Run. This tenth year marked
a milestone in Victoria hashing history, and nearly 40 contestants lined up in smashing crimson toggery with purses, pearls, wigs, and accessories
in tow. Floppy's Motown afro and Stroke's feathery boa added a special flair, and Deep Shit's wig was so flattering that most hashers agreed
he should adopt the look permanently. There was a minor present, Beerman, the son of Visible Panty Line, but he seemed quite undisturbed by all
the derangement.
Shrink A Dink finally showed after months of abstinence, and found his running muscles so atrophied he was assisted by a skateboard. He and Maneater brought two lovely ladies who made it clear only one of them was really a virgin. Plumber's Mate made a celebrated return to Victoria, dressed in an inspirational cheerleading mini. Vancouver's Cream Puff graced the hash, wearing a skimpy, scandalous number. Lester the chicken was looking particularly hot in his sports bra, and the Lakeside Trail Runners were resplendent in their crimson frocks. Mucksucker was the hottest trannie in town!
After milling about the pool deck on display for the normal Saturday bar folk at the Traveler's, introductions were made and instructions were simulated using turd-like briquets in place of flour. The hash began with several unnecessary highway crossings and bumbling around the parking garage. The trail was finally sniffed out (or snorted up, as Shrink later pointed out), and the hashers embarked on a blazing streak through our beautiful Victoria, leaving a wake of shock and awe in their path. Cries heard in passing included "Only in Canada!", "Holy mother of god!" and "What the frock?!" Cell phones were slapped open, children's eyes were clamped shut, mouths fell agape, and eyes bulged. All for beer, beer we tell ya! Nectar of the gods and goddesses! And we all were, for a day.
Red dresses stormed the convention center, sauntered through the Empress Hotel, flew through Chinatown, sang Swing Low on the steps of the library, danced on the corner of Government, and paraded through shopping malls. Pausing to flirt with security officers maintained amiable relations until offenders were accosted by a foot-stomping mall security squirt while running up a down escalator. Comes Three Times and Cardinal Sin squeezed into the display case for Asmira School of Belly Dancing and later created a visible bulge in the pants of the Plasterman on the Causeway.
The Beer Check was at a lovely dumpster on the water surrounded by fencing, perfect for this motley group of misfits. No photos were allowed in the Kiss N Tell sex shop, and what happens on the hash, stays on the hash, so this part of the story has been edited for content.
Religion was held at the Armory, where a lengthy oratory on Red Dress history was delivered by R.A. Double Hump. Premature Evacuation was celebrated, downed, and bestowed a hockey stick for his historical haring of excellent Red Dresses, accompanied by the likes of long-member Digger. Little Blow Peep and Digger announced their engagement, promising to be generous with sexual favors forever and ever. (Blow was already on her knees.) A naming ceremony was held with salsa standing in for flour, and "Sir No Sir!" was crowned for his aforementioned scuffle with the mall security squirt.
M'Alice from Vancouver, fresh from his 80 km race at Elk Lake, blessed us with a dirty, hashing rendition of Smash Mouth's "All Star." On on! There were a dozen Best Red Dress nominees, and Plumber's Mate beat out sexy Cinderella, Beaver Fever, and Cream Puff and in the final round, taking home the prized red purse.
Grog managed to escape being charged, despite his lack of red dress. Stoolie was charged double for his pink cowboy hat and for ignoring the needs of Plumber's Mate. Double Hump was charged for several heinous mistakes in terminology and judgment, but he was also recognized for his G-string exhibition in Chinatown, where he just said no to crack.
A dozen hashers were thrown in the fray for chronic absenteeism. Sex and skiing were among the pleas entered, and absolution was granted after down-downs, rounds of insults, and Comes Three Times taking off her pants.
Drinking, dancing, and other forms of consumption ensued. Music was handled gracefully and patiently by Deep Shit, who pleasured everyone by spinning rock, rhythm, blues, and salsa tunes from Clapton to the Proclaimers. There were a few spankings and some excitement over a missing cock. Stoolie's dance card was filled with a line-up of ladies needing a good lead. (Single men in the world, take note!)
Major thanks go to Preemie, Little Blow Peep, Digger, and Deep Shit for arranging the hash, festivities, clean-up, music, and photos. Great party! Fabulous Red Dress!
On on!
Grateful Head