so there i was, arriving at trail over 50 minutes late. The pack had gone. The beer had gone. Oh woe is me! I locked up my truck, taking only my trusty light/d phone. Yes, i said only. Keys? Eh. Who needs 'em. Pounding the pavement i go, passing a couple walking hand in hand in the Publix parking lot. Nice, I say to myself. I slow a bit to get a better look but suddenly she turns and glares at me. Evidently she is protective of her man.
I pick up the pace, passing a homeless man but having to pause at an intersection. He move ahead and i must walk for a while on a path later to be discovered was a YBF. On true trail i go, clearly marked at ten foot intervals. No mistaking it this time until i come upon some shiggy. Three locals and a sheriff talking how hashers broke a stockade fence. Oops, not my kind of shiggy so i move on past. Woe be me when trail vanishes and it becomes obvious they did hop (and break) a fence. Not having trail i decide to backtrack and remove my shirt as a disguise. A shirt that read "hash house harriers" may not be the best thing to wear right now. Good call as a second sheriff rolls up. I look at my watch, feigning to care what numbers are displayed, and move past them.
Zen, I thought. The only way. The power of the hash is strong in this one. Hashing, he will. And so i did, going to A1A and pausing for a moment at a light. A to A trail? No marks so probably not. I catch a woman in a car glance quickly away from me, all sweaty, shiny and just in a pair of shorts. She must like my shoes, i thought. South i go, turning at the next intersection and viola! Trail! Blobs of flour no more than 10 feet distant mark my way. Left here, turn there, and I see a black truck sporting a ladder and cone backing up.
What?!! Say its not so! First losing trail because of PoPo and now no beer. 30 seconds sooner and the Golden Nectar could have soothed my parched throat. Alas, it was not meant to be. On my legs carry me and soon i see people in the distance. Walkers they be, one with beer. I soon catch them, lament about the beer truck, and am soon offered a vessel. Off I go refreshed and invigorated, soon to pass walker group two. An hour late and still not DFL - a good feeling. They ask of the sheriff so I recount the tale. Soon we are at the on-in, bikinis were on hot wet women, beer was had, and there was much rejoicing!
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