Date:  Sunday, May 30, 1999
Weather: Bayou Bright
Venue: Princeton Borough, Ghetto, and campus
Time: 1:00:00.00
Setter:  Rubber Llloda
Hounds:  Geezer, Wacko, Rojo, Discomfort, Louisiana Reptile Fancier, A
Joy to His Mother, Lick Me I'm Salty!, Bowser and man's best friend
besides Rambo, Huypui, Hand Solo, Sick and Dying Gerbils Ripped My
Flesh, Skaar Tissue, Minor Tom the Army Guy, 242, Bang'em Harder,
Richard or maybe Jeffrey '96


The Return of the Louisiana Reptile Fancier


        It was the best of Reunion hashes, it was the best of Reunion Hashes. 
And if it wasn't, it certainly put paid once and for all to those
screaming preemies about this being the Year of the Debacle.  And where
were the braying naysayers?  Perhaps shying from the intense sun and
heat that lured the LRF from his swampy Cajun lair out to the broiling
blacktop, and what's more, all the way to the finish.  "It's like this,
dude," confided Rubber Allen, "Parking is the key.  The LRF only shows
up when he knows there's good parking."  Others echoed this explanation,
but that did not explain his absence from Excremental Earnings's virgin
set.
        No, as the LRF himself said, it was the weather: a remorselessly
blazing sun rising toward noon with nary a cloud in the sky: this was a
climate made for coldblooded hashing on asphalt and flat stones.
        The hash itself ran with surpassing smoothness, aided by the hares'
thoughtful design for wheelchair-enabled hashers.  Highlights included a
visit with Mrs. Geezer by Joy and Ouipee; a tour of the Hash Ghetto,
where alert hounds stumbled on Rubber and Llloda's reasonable rendition
of a Louisiana Liplock; the idiocy of several hounds who, on seeing the
pack's handwaving down Moran Street, took that to be a false trail and
cleverly headed to Lawrenceville; a well-placed and vital water/beer
break; 242's vainglorious effort to metamorphose into 343 across the
practice field to the On-in; the first exactly 60-minute hash in PHHH
history; and a fine selection of junk food and quality beers, including
the overpraised Cent Chimay, which might make Minor Tom's second five.   
        So, is all well?  I say thee nay, for if the Reunion marked the return
of one revered member, it augured the departure of another.  There will
be no joy in Hashville, and there was much gnashing of teeth and rending
of garment bags.  Moreover, if LRF's sneering comments about the
campus's architectural incoherence and ugliness are any indication, he
too has retired once again, Gollum-like, so far into Discomfort's false
trail that not even a cranky snapper the size of a volleyball could lure
him from his dark, damp lair.