Bike Week: March 2,3,4, 2001
Daytona Beach, Florida. The site of multitudes of beer drinkers, women flashing hooters, beer drinkers, gratuitous ass grabbing, beer drinkers, tattoos, beer drinkers, dirt, beer drinkers, and massive amounts of sex! This sounds like a hash doesn't it? Well, we're talking about BIKE WEEK 2001!
Once again, the DBH3 hosted our anal 3 day bike week hash in the midst of over 600,000 leather clad fat people from all over the world riding over-priced, out of tune, and slow contraptions called Harley Davidson! The weekend got off to a bang with registration and BEER opening up in the late afternoon on Friday. Our Friday Pub crawl began promptly (okay that's a stretch) at 9:30 P.M. and we were off to the first beer stop, which was at home of the hare, Thor the Wanker. After multitudes of hashers pissed in the back yard and drank up a keg and 5 cases of beer, the cops finally came with about 15 squad cars, a helicopter, and the SWAT team. They were, of course, responding to the fact that two or three hashers stepped 6 feet off of Thor's property with open containers - a major no-no in these parts. While Thor and others negotiated (bribed with donuts) the cops, Sir Flatulot discreetly laid trail (about 600 feet) around the block to the next stop, Robbie O'Connell's Irish Pub where, again, massive amounts of beer was consumed by thirsty hashers after such a long leg of the trail. Our hare then laid the final leg to J's Island Patio for yet more beer and quite an entertaining session of toesucking!
The pack drifted and filtered back to the Mayan Inn (Hash Headquarters) for, you guessed it, more beer (and more toesucking - poor Momma!). Now, to put this in perspective, the total amount of HQ beer (that is beer solely at the hotel, not on pub crawls) that was consumed at Bike Week 2000 for all three days, was 8 kegs. Friday night alone, the 2001 pack drank 7! I see someone has been working out their drinking ability over the year! The party on Friday continued until about 4:00 A.M. with the kegs staying tapped all the way.
Saturday started at, oh, about sunrise. Hashers, in usual fashion flooded the free continental breakfast buffet and began drinking heavily at about 9:30 A.M. A room-to-room pub crawl ensued at about 10:30 hosted by various out-of-town hash clubs. Yucca,
Space juice (whatever the hell that is!), Blood Marys, Oatmeal creme pie shots...hot chicks getting temporary tattoos...what more could a hasher ask for?!?
At about 12:30, a special event took place on the pool deck of the Mayan, Rear Buccaneer and Benyae tied the hash knot. What a ceremony it was! Wild Oats was Matron of Honor and Thor the Wanker had Best Man duties. He certainly WAS the best man for that Giraffe G-String he was wearing! Skinamax had the honor of giving away the beautiful bride (still not sure why, though!). Benyae looked absolutely radiant, and a
little drunk, as she came down the aisle in a royal blue prom dress. Elephant Dick and Mr. Jackson (Oooops ... Father Jackson) performed the ceremony while quite a crowd formed outside the Mayan and the Ocean Deck next door. In what seemed to be a very dramatic and entertaining plot, Thor, who claimed to have no place to hide a ring, was asked for the jewelry necessary for the event to properly ensue. Since he did not have a ring, a cheap cigar band was used. When the band was ripped, everyone was asked for tape, luckily, Thor had a roll in his giraffe. Everyone wanted a closer look at Thor's man-panties. After the couple was properly wed, they were doused with cheese balls and beer ... touche!
After that our RA, No Blow, conducted a semi-circle with down-downs. Mt. Dora was given her 100th run bag, Cursor was given his 50th run mug, Neutered was given a down-down for making Bike Week possible (Seriously, without him, there would be no DBH3 Bike Week Weekend), and a few other down-downs were given for general principles. A round of Father Abraham and chalk talk instructions preceded the 569th run of the Daytona Beach Hash House Harriers! The pack went down to a hash hold on the corner of A1A and Main Street and then, all at once, 215 Hashers thrust down Main Street amid the crowd of bikers and pedestrians, stopping traffic, dumbfounding cops, and amazing the crowd watching. The bikers revved their engines and the crowd cheered in response as the hashers made their way to a check at the end of the street, where the pack split up and a small group got lost. After wandering around aimlessly, the group came to a corner house where some nice locals let all the harriettes pile onto their porch for a photo opportunity. Of course it was "tits out for the boys!" The lost hashers finally turned around and started heading back from whence they came to try to locate trail. Sauer Crotch led the pack in the right direction and over the bridge. Just as the group got to the top of the bridge, the drawbridge came up, which gave time for more photo opportunities and INKY PINKY! After what seemed like an eternity to the thirsty hashers, the bridge lowered and they were on-on again and finally found the first beer check at the Love Bar. Many hashers were lost on trail. You could hear the bitching and moaning for miles and hours. Luckily, lots of beer curbed the complaining. A huge tab was paid at the Love Bar.
After the Love Bar, the pack ran about 2 more miles to Sir Flatulot's house for the 2nd beer stop. One hasher, after consuming too much alcohol (Is that possible?) and not enough water, fell and ripped flesh from her legs and arms (Did we say - Hog Balls award?) She was emergency evacuated in Gilligan's car to the hotel. She somehow broke out and managed to stumble to the next bar though. The hashers at Fatty's were glad to see a McDonalds less than a block away. They quietly rested on his sloping yard and dreamt of the night ahead. After draining 1 ½ kegs at Sir Flatulot's , the pack was off to annoy the motorists on A1A once more, then down the beach ramp where Cockpit performed an impressive fall with a 6-point landing. Who knew she was so talented?!? The only problem is that one of the 6 points was her cooter! OUCH! Lucky for her, Paddle Me is a Registered Nurse and was on hand for cooter resuscitation. Eventually, the group wound up at some bar that none of the writers of this trash were sober enough to remember.
At the nameless bar, No Blow attempted to run a circle around the pool. Almost every hash group sang a down-down to themselves while the music blaring from the hotel bar flooded the airwaves. We'd list all the groups, but we'd surely miss one and that would be bad. So we'll be very bad and miss them all.
Saturday night at the Hash HQ you would have thought everyone would have been tired drunk, Horney, hungry, or otherwise not at the hotel. NOT! It seems the pack just could not get enough of each other and, for the most part stayed at HQ most of the night. The keg situation got a little dicey when we started running low on beer - we sent for emergency re-supply. Fortunately, our GM, Neutered, and Pencil Dick from Orlando were sober enough to go get additional kegs. In the meanwhile, since Daytona NEVER RUNS OUT OF BEER! Sir Flatulot, No Blow, and Crotchduster (the Keg watch patrol) purchased 15 pitchers of beer from the hotel bar and personally went around filling up .mugs to keep the tradition alive. About 2:30, Crotchduster decided that the 20 or so hashers congregated on the pool deck needed to do another room crawl, so...up to SuckMeDry's room on the 7th floor we went! The next stop was the registration room where we burst in to find Gilligan sleeping (with the door unlocked)! The look on his face was priceless as 20 screaming hashers piled into his room. Rumor has it that we left the 7th floor too soon. Apparently, room 702 was the naked stop on the room crawl!
Sunday morning the beer was still flowing and being consumed by a tireless pack of hashers anxiously awaiting the Hangover Hash and the end of the hash weekend. Rumors were flying around about the hotel manager being run over by someone in a minivan. Daytona was blaming Tampa, Tampa was blaming Daytona. Only the hotel manager and the 2 Tampa chicks he screwed know for sure what really happened! J Rear Buccaneer and Benyae had a crappy Sunday morning wake-up call. You'll have to ask them about that. It involved an alarm clock, running, and possibly some hot sauce and corn.
It was raining as the pack headed on-on to the first stop at The Barn Door, but that just seemed to make them even more thirsty! The final stop of the hangover trail was Bernkastle's, with several gluttons for punishment stopping at Fat Tuesday for some extra credit daquiris. YUMMY! Mountain Yak (or was that Cooter Head Brown?!?) performed some quite impressive dick tricks, the group from Bay City entertained us with their favorite song...something about itty bitty bullets, and Rose Eh lead a group of us in a songfest!
All hashers would like to thank Neutered, our GM and Bike Week Mismanager (for busting his ass) and all of the Hashers from Daytona and Orlando who helped put this together. It was the best ever! Get ready for Bike Week 2002!
As reported by: Sir Flatulot, No Blow, and Cockpit
Last modified: Saturday, 2009-May-02 08:44:27 PM CDT
