The Fancy as fuckery hash started with a generous prelube at 505 Central foodcourt. For a solid hour, hashers assembled, drank, and otherwise engaged in their fancy dress superpowers. The hares, Breaking Vag (in a very shiny dress) and Barefoot Youngdung, still barefoot but also in a formal band-leader outfit, were blessed, and out they went. Our Religious Advisor Tantric Arachnid Cannibal Orgy (Taco, with a fantastic feather boa) proceeded to remind us of our ways of hashing with the marks written on posterboard. We were graced with two visitors, Two Men one C*unt (TMOC) from Savannah H3, and Golden P Showers (GPS) from Pittsburg H3.
Tip of the Assberg was a sailor and a trooper, wearing a dozen-something ties, with one to be removed per drink. A couple were distributed amongst the group before on-out, including to Sir Cums A lot and I think Mc Rimjob, making their attire +1 dapper (tie). As we on-outed, a few people left some drinks on the table, and Tip poured them all into his to-go cup. Remember ladies and Gents (and hashers): picking up drinks from an empty tabe is not considered ‘minesweeping’ if you know the people.
Other hashers at the start were Rolls Over Easy, Thorgasm, Just Alia, Auto Erotic Fixation, Camel Heaux, I’d Eat That Period, Just Miranda, Oxford Coma, Hobocop, Party Pooper, Extra Virgin Gherkin Jerkin, Eat Friend and Enter, Fucking in Tents, Did a Foreskin, Shag Magnet, Sub-Rubbit, Virgin Mike, Dot, EeeWhore and Just Amy.
Right from the start, Hobocop and Extra Virgin Gherkin Jerkin were out in front checking those checks. McRimjob may have been up front, as this fair hasher was out for a lazy stroll and didn’t see those r*cists race. The pack went down (teehee) central and towards the convention center and auditorium. Any potential views of the train (AHH!) were expertly hidden to prevent flashbacks. We came across Many a public sculpture consented to some hashers climbing on them for photos. Pretty sure I saw Thorgasm rocking an ollie with a sculptured skateboarder. I’d Eat that, Period definitely made some friends, first by climbing on and face-f*cking one of our bronze brethren. George Carlin said 68 is a 69 with an “I’ll owe you one”—and Period showed he repays debts by going face-first into a second statue. Taco, Camel Heaux, Fucking In Tents, Tip, Did a Foreskin, Oxford Coma, Auto Erotic Fixation and Just Miranda all stood around to give them privacy and/or watch.
It was a long path gayly forward, and TMOC and Period engaged in an impromptu sing-off, egged on at first by Oxford and enjoyed by everyone with working ear-holes. Gawd Damn, y’all got lungs for DAYS. There were some naughty checks to get some consensual booty-smacking started for those who consent, and outside of some confusion in and around the civic plaza, the FRBs seeming led us north on 3rd street. Ahhh great! Gravity bound is a right there, and that’s a great place to stop on a pay-your-own-way hash! But along the path the hares must have gotten hungry for pheasant, as the pack were sad-tracked by a dead not-bird bird. Birds, of course are not real. Nor was a stop at Gravity Bound. Beer you say?! Nah, this is a fancy hash! Today we ARE the Bourgeoisie! We will stop at nothing but the finest bougie! So as we headed towards Marble, NAH, they’re nothing. Still Distillery was the first stop and, thought the one bartended was distinctly overworked, they didn’t skimp on quality for a rush. just as the fancy as F*ck hash wants! The hashers certainly brought in more tips than we scared away. The fanciest of drinks were drunk, and Party Pooper’s boa was shedding feathers faster than a dead non-bird. It was a long stop so that everyone could get a fancy on, and many a group regaled a tail or two, just in time for impeccably dressed EeeWhore and Just Amy to put the fashion in fashionably late 😉
On the way out, we came in an Alley (it’s the ABQ way, amirite?!) Some racists were off doing some racists things, and Thorgasm, Period, and Rolls Over Easy (ROE) – the fanciest of hot dogs, were first to brave the dog-eat-dog world of downtown. Trail had several checks and a couple of scenic views along the way, but again the speediness of our raciest hashers made short work of the complexities until we arrived at our second beer check at Bar Uno. Beer check, once again, was in name only. Their refrigerator, much like the majority of hashers this day, wasn’t r*nning. Being that we were suddenly 30 something hashers crammed into a sardine-can-sized bar, drinks were chosen cold and speedily, and we were once again off to our next adventure!
Keeping the pack together was done magically and expertly by BV, and no one realized we’d caught a hare—the drinks were flowing expertly. As we approached the train station (AHHH!), a perfectly timed bus turned the corner, and we were instructed to get on! And when a Harriette says get on, this fare hasher consents. We got off (teehee), following a few marks being laid right in front of us (the pack really missed the ‘caught the hare’ thing) and we thought we witnessed a hashy miracle of a burning bush! But in the end, it was just a regular ABQ bush on fire at the econolodge, rather than a religious epiphany. As we all crammed into a box on the way up to Apothecary, Tip regaled us of his sex in that *very* elevator (Tip in the Shaftberg?). Unlike the real fire/fake religion of econolodge, Apothecary provided a truly religious experience with the fanciest of f*ckery for the cocktails. Spaces had been reserved, and the setting sun was beautiful but OH SO BRIGHT. The real winner of the day was the parasol, handily used for shade and a light reflector for Sub-Rubbits fanciest of hash flash! (which we still haven’t seen btw. Ahem). Golden hour was upon us, and the sunset again made us all look as pretty as we felt. Tip was down to two ties, and doing solid for 10 drinks in. We sang a few hash songs, and many a muggle came and went while we imbibed around them.
Bellies full of spirits and spirits full of (hashing) spirit, it was time for the on out. I think we must have gone straight to on-in, led gracefully by the hares, to the wonderful home of BV. In fitting with the theme, there were also cheese plates and snacks of the fanciest of foods—not a single orange item in sight. Circle was formed, Hares drank for the crimes, and a bunch of hashers did naughty things that they had to drink for too. Many named hashers didn’t think their collars suited their fancy attire, and had to drink for that. Rocky Whore was brought in and asked to find her first collar, expertly hidden on Taco by Taco. Bubbly was opened and shared by the most wonderful hostess, both NA and A varieties. The fancy as f*ckery was truly beginning to end. Then, the moment we were all waiting for, even though we didn’t know it was c*ming, was the prize for the “Most Extra” Hasher! I believe the nominees were Fucking in Tents (dapper in tweed), Camel Heaux (a human disco ball), Two Men (stylish sun dress), BV (layers and layers of shiny!), Barefoot (Grand Marshal), and Thorgasm (OMG those boots!). The judges were drunk and loud, and after the first run through there were three hashers standing. (In the contest. By this point in the fun everyone wise had been sitting to stop the world from falling over). The final vote for Most Extra was between Dapper, Disco, and Boots, and a well-timed umbrella pop and twirl won it for Fucking In Tents. Circle was closed with a new and improved (some say miss-written) version of the world famous ABQ hash song, and though the hash ended, the party just begun thanks to wonderful Harriette and host!
Start: 505 Food Court. ‘Beer’ checks: Still Distilling; Bar Uno; Apothecary
On in: BV’s house