Shitty not Shiggy!
Trip Start May 11, 2005
320Trip End Ongoing
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The hares told us the trail “didn’t have too much shiggy, but it was a little shitty.”
What they should have told us was we were about to run thru possibly the most revolting terrain of any hash world wide to date. Slums and poo fields. Fresh, human shit. There was trail on old poo, fresh poo on paper, action poo shots, even a poo waterfall. At one point, the trail was sooo steep, we were forced to jump down and land in, on, or around poo, then climb back up a garbage heap/poo debris field and keep running….
Again, I cant do this hash justice and keep this entry brief, so I will leave it up to Ben to let the photos say the thousand shitty words. After the hash, we went home, hit the showers--HARD--had a few pre-party cocktails, and went to the birthday party.
This was Sara’s party, and we were more than up to filling the bill of “Crazy American Backpackers.” Well, Ben and I were up to it...Hooper, he just sat in the corner and went home early. Truly, this is becoming a depressing trend with this lad. I mean, he is all about partying, but as of late, he seems to drink too much too fast, and then simply disappear. Maybe, its the shattered romantic life or all the responsibilities waiting for him back in the real world, but he really needs to learn to lighten up. Live for today! I mean, who knows when you will be deported and the life you are soo concerned with at home may be all but a thing of the past. (This is for-shadowing, so pay attention.) The point is—HOOPER—don't let today pass you by while you are busy planning for tomorrow.
Instead, party like a rock star. Dance with married women. Get slapped for arbitrarily putting your hands too low during that dance. Take belly button photos with consulate workers. Pay 50 bucks for all you can drink at the swankiest hotel in town and get cut off. Hell, you may even want to jump over the bar after being cut off, steal a hundred dollar bottle of champagne, try miserably to conceal the bottle in you trousers as you run out the back door of the five star hotel, jump in an auto rickshaw, open, swig from, and then throw down the undrunk bottle in the express way. Who knows? Its your life. But for god sakes live it. Don't worry about consequence. Deal with them when they arise. Say, the next morning, when the birthday girl wakes you up with eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, fresh coffee, and..................mimosas. Just play it off like nothing happened. Pretend you didn’t try to crash in the wrong bed, make no mention of ANY champagne, and for god sakes, EAT THE MEAT. You might just be beginning the worst 48 travel hours of your life.