SFH3 Run #1530
|:||Duboce Park, Duboce at Steiner|
|:||Straight 2 Hell|
Epilogue: Chasing Hash Trash and assorted other hash debris
This is how cold it was Monday night at the windswept Duboce circle. As RAs Whole Blow Out and Crabs collected down downs, here is how the conversations went.
Crabs: Crime? (pen hovering anxiously over pad)
Hasher 1: Yes, I have a great one. So out on trail -
Crabs: Oh by the way, before you start you should probably know that my balls are freezing and I don’t really give a fuck about your crime and I don’t really mean to be insincere but having said that I’ll now give you a chance to kindly rescind your crime. NEXT!
Whole Blow Out: Crime?
Hasher 2: Yes -
WBO: Excuse me, but exactly which part of ‘Crab’s balls freezing’ don’t you get?
Thus the entire circle lasted six and a half minutes, and it seemed way too long. As soon as it was over, the pack vanished. As I offered to help Hand Pump pack up his wares, he gave me a blank look - and I swear to you he sized up my biceps - as he politely declined my assistance. By the time he got all the way to the “thanks” part of “no thanks Muff Snatcher” I already had five giant steps toward my car, and I wasn’t turning back. It was really fucking cold Monday night if you haven’t picked that up yet. If you have picked up on it, it bears repeating. It was really fucking cold Monday night, and by this time, everyone – and this bears repeating – EVERYONE was already at Toronado. Hand Pump then slung the red tub, the keg (which thankfully was not all that heavy as none of the situation was severe enough for the SFH3 NOT to kick the keg), the tap, the cooler full of ice, empty soda and beer cans and full soda and beer cans, and plastic cups and other assorted hash debris onto the hand truck. By then my sights were on my car and I could only focus on grabbing a fistful of “Toronado” dollars so I could buy Hand Pump a beer for not making me help him. As I approached my car the street was eerily silent. As if something was about to happen.
And then I heard it.
Now we’ve all seen Hand Pump climb four flights of stairs with the cooler under one arm, the keg in the other, the tap in his back pocket, the tub balanced on his back, all with Muff Daddy riding shotgun. So, I couldn’t initially make sense of this sound. But there was only one way to describe this. It’s a sound that only a red tub, the keg, the tap, a cooler full of ice, empty soda and beer cans and full soda and beer cans, and plastic cups and other assorted hash debris could make as it all hit Duboce Avenue and, with the help of a nice downhill and the wind, went rolling in several different directions. I am also not making the following up. Right as that happened, a truck came down the hill, made a screeching halt, and out jumped Get the Fuck Out of My Bed and Diamond in the Muff. No, wait, they didn’t jump out, a better term for it is mobilized. They then proceeded to chase down every scrap of debris. I mean, if you didn’t know better you would have thought that gold coins had been raining down from heaven. A can came rolling up to me about seventy-five yards from the scene and I picked it up and joined them. We talked about how kind of crazy that was. If someone had seen this from a distance I wonder what they would have thought. Probably that people in San Francisco are a little bit crazy about things like debris, recycling, being green, etc. Think about it, some cities don’t even have recycling. In San Francisco people stop in the middle of the street and jump out of their cars just to have a shot at chasing down garbage in the streets. That’s not to say we wouldn’t also chase gold coins, it’s just that we’re not really all that picky about what we chase in the street. For a brief moment it felt good – almost warm - to witness such greenness and camaraderie. But then the wind whipped up again. Hand Pump didn’t say much during this whole episode, he thanked Get the Fuck Out of My Bed and Diamond in the Muff and gave us a look like, “Don’t worry. I’ve got it from here”. And we didn’t worry. Of course by the time he had got to “worry”, I had long since realized that also green were my Toronado dollars and I was already very close to spending some.