The 1st LA HHH
Urban Iditarod
(Now "I-DID-A-DAWG")
April 1999

PRELUDE It was a sunny morning at a park in Southern Santa Monica. My first glance revealed a human dawned in dawg regalia pushing a shopping cart at full trot . . . (in the middle of the street). I said to myself, "Oh good, I'm not the only idiot." As I rounded the corner, the site of 40 to 50 assorted dawgs lunged into view in a manner similar to a double dry heave in rapid succession. You know, the kind were the second one starts before the first one is finished. It literally took my breath away. There were Dalmatians, Bull Dawgs, A Spuds Mackenzie Dog, and all kinds of mutts that only pictures can describe. These dawgs were barking and pawing and running and stretching and lifting their legs and smelling dawg's privates and they were even humping other dawgs; and dawggie-style . . . It was thoroughly enjoyable. All the non-hashers in the park (especially kids with their parents) were wandering by with a permanent smile pasted on their faces asking two questions: 1) What are you guys doing? 2) Are you insane? At that moment The First Annual Southern Californian April Fools Urban Iditarod was a bud on the verge of blossom (or should I say like a finger in the throat about to accomplish miracles). THE RUN (THE FIRST LEG) In the beginning we all headed out of the parking lot and right on to Cloverfield going South. We turned into a small Farmers Market on the corner of Cloverfield and Pico. As we barked and ran by, most of the people in the market gapped while others smiled, but all shook their heads in disbelief. After passing through the market the turkey/eagle split appeared and all but two teams took the eagle trail. The eagle trail produced a tour of Santa Monica College and the one and only check. The beer sled (my team) knew better and headed down Pico. We turned right (in front of the college) through an alley. The trail wormed its way past (unknown to me) Cock-O-Dile-Done-Me's and Oedapussy's house where earlier they caught us laying trail (we paid with a down-down). The first beer stop was adjacent to a graveyard. There we partook of the sacred nectar and waited for the eagles to catch-up. Upon arriving they demanded beer (what else) and as more beer was consumed the barking became louder and dawgs began to chase cars and busses. This included a truck loaded with real Dalmatians. Three notable thinks happened: 1) Fag-i-o had lost the Hash Shit twice by this time; 2) "The Horny Hound of Hell," treated us to a beer lapping contest from bowls while on all fours (I assure you, the site was nice from the front, but better from behind). And 3) the chariot (fire truck) from one of the San Diego teams broke down and it became a gurney for the wheels that were once attached but now broken. THE RUN (THE SECOND LEG) Next, the teams headed West into Santa Monica High School, but not before paying a most reverent visit to the cemetery. A funeral was in progress and I swear I thought I heard two or three people turn over. No one took the eagle trail here which lead right in front of a burial (OMG, sanctity among hashers?). Arriving at the school there was a slight trick of rear entry next to the schools loading dock. Everyone had to lift their sleds/carts up a flight of stairs and zig-zag into the main walkway; then, down two flights of stairs (some used the handicap ramp) and on toward the back parking lot to the second beer stop. More dawgs got drunk, I mean more nectar was drunk, that is, I know someone was drunk. More socializing ensued and after a proper rest we were off to the beach. Before we took-off, some teams had left their sleds on the upper parking lot and had to bring them down an incredibly steep and tall set of stairs. THE RUN (THE DOG LEG) As we headed for the beach we passed through a hotel car entrance. Across the street was the Santa Monica Police Station. Most teams were headed straight into the station. I veered off immediately. Later, an officer asked me where in the hell those dog-people thought they were going. Now keep in mind my team and I were wearing dog bonnets, barking, and pulling a large metal dog sled with a keg of beer in it. I simply and straight faced said, "Oh, we're not with them." Moments from entering the Venice boardwalk another officer halted traffic at the hotel to allow us dawgs to pass. As we did he was muttering something about the law, or tickets, or I'm not really sure, but we thanked him anyway and kept going. After one mile of the boardwalk we rested at an adjacent park and watched all the silly people in Venice skate and ride by. More socializing ensued and a "Horny Hound" started rubbing the penile tip of (I believe it was) Two Guys all over her lips. As it turned out Two Guys and Juggles His Balls had used lip stick for the tips of their most sacred dawg members, and the innocent girl just wanted to protect her lips from the blistering wind and sun (yea right). THE LAST LEG Finally, we headed into town to the old Oar House (now Murphy's), but it was closed, so we headed uphill for the final leg of the trail. The uphill was ball buster especially since we also had extra baggage. The extra baggage was in the form of a harriette who had a blister on her foot. After two hills we threw her off and hoped she would make the finish. The end was at a dog park (Joslyn Park) were it got extremely cold so down-downs proceeded quickly, and special medals were presented as follows: 1. Best Name: I-Did-A-Dog . 2. Best Looking: Horny Hounds of Hell. 3. Dog With Biggest Bone: Cream Puff (However I must admit one of the San Diego team members had one bigger but he left before the presentation . . . You must be present to win). 4. Most Erotic: Cheek-A-Boo (I think I'm in lust). 5. Hash Shit: Boo Boo Bear and myself for lack of hash on trail. 6. Then we did another down-down for pre-laid trail on bikes (not to mention the one for just being the hares). 7. Then I got drunk and I can't remember the rest except the Special Award. 8. Special Award is the Bloody Tampon Award. Presented to, "The Dogs of War." It symbolizes the blood and sweat provided by our leaders of the hash in keeping with the spirit of blah, blah, blah . . . and all that other bull shit. Thanks to all attending, especially those from San Diego and OC who traveled a long way. I know it was a ruff (no pun intended) run, but I for one can't wait till next year. On-Out Bugle Boner LAHHH