GPH3 Run #1597: The Gypsies’ A(nal) G(rand) M(ockery)
: 04/04/2024
: The parking lot for Blackie’s Pasture in Tiburon on Tiburon Blvd.
: Pied Piper
: Tongueless

Run #1597 The Floodtide of History

The Gypsies’ motto has always been, “We don’ need no stinkin’ committee” so the only thing that happens at the Gypsies’ AGM, that’s AGM as in Anal Grand Mockery not Annual General Meeting, is nothing. Think of the Gypsies as the Big Lebowski of hashing, the Gypsies abide! Pied Piper decided to lay the trail and from his home away from home, Blackie’s Pasture in Tiburon. In honor of the Gypsies turning the ripe old age of 31, the first trail was April Fools’ Day 1993, PP promised to fire up the Sacred Grill and cook like there was no tomorrow. NO one has any idea what PP did to offend the Hashing Gods, but it was surely something serious because They turned on the tap and water deluged from the sky. The lie was put to “It never rains on Thursday!” It should now be, “It only rains on Thursday when it pours!”  The Outbeer had no trouble finding parking, but it did staying afloat. PP was wearing an inner tube when he came out to greet the keg of Lagunitas Island Beats Tropical IPA. Bets were being made on who would be desperate enough for cheap piss to brave the elements. Exaggerated Crack pulled up but he got a pass since he was showing that he is man of his word by bringing the keg he and Choke Me, Daddy had emptied from last week! Manhole was there since he and PP had laid the trail and managed to survive both the hailstorm in which they’d found themselves and the steep slip and slide shiggy. MH was wearing poncho that he wouldn’t have trusted as a garbage bag, but hey, it was cheap. Minutes passed and Dr. Kimble arrived complete with his umbrella. The desperate for cheap piss question was answered finally with the arrival of Hand Pump and Blow Queen. Of course, Fits In and Tongueless don’t count since without them the pack would have had to beat its meat instead of Island Beats. Since the few, the brave, the incredibly dumb were standing around in the rain the keg was tapped and at least some liquid was internalized. FI insisted this was a no charge evening as she would feel guilty asking for money! The pack mulled over what it was going to do and whether there was somewhere nearby that would provide shelter for the grilling to take place. In one sense it was lucky the trail was in Marin since the start was not that far from Chez Fits In and T aka Lagunitas South! It didn’t take long for the decision that those who wanted to “*un” trail could and then head north to T and FI’s garage where PP would set up the Sacred Grill and work his magic. To ward off the chill, FI had Sacred Thermi filled with rum and hot cider. And so, it was written and so it was done! The Outbeer turned north to Novato followed by PP and MH while the rest headed into the hills to conquer or die! EC with his promise fulfilled, wisely, headed for home and hearth. Back at the ranch the garage door was raised, the keg was tapped, PP brought out his table and covered it with buns and every condiment known to man. PP set up a portable burner and set a pot of chili to cooking, in case anyone wanted a chili dog or a plate of chili. Eventually the survivors, such and soggy as they were, to partake in PP’s feast including hot dogs, polish sausages, cheddar hot dogs and chili. The vultures were both hungry and thirsty. Hell, they even went for the Vitamin J. Dr. K’s better ¾ sent homemade carrot cake to add to the fullness of the evening. 5150 had rung T, when the pack was still at Blackie’s and said he was cuming. T told him not to bother. Eventually Dr. K felt fortified enough to brave the elements and return home. Those that had growlers, PP, filled them, The keg survived quite handily but one of the Sacred Thermi died valiantly. The pack headed off into the eye of the storm and FI and T sat back to relax. At 10pm there was a muffled knock at the door and there stood 5150! All in all, a fine AGM!  Cheers.