The F. My Gilbert Hash

Run #1023, November 7, 2005

Hare:  Trail Hoover (SESYB)

Location:  Foxboro, MA (F. Gilbert Hills State Park)

Weather:  Low 50’s, breezy and dry

Present:  Amish It Head, Basket, Bondo, Dr. WHO, Dry Foot Fairy, Just Sandra, Oozing, Ponder On It, WIPOS, Yank My Doodle, Ben and Seamus

 

The Run:

There were only two reasons to be in Foxboro that Monday night: first was to watch the Pats lose to the Colts, yet again; and the second was to hash with RIH3. 69,069 fans packed Gillette Stadium. 11 showed up for the hash. Quantity, as it seems, does not equate to quality. The Patriots lost. 11 losers hashed. Coincidence? I think not! Did any of this make any sense? I think not!

And with that, the run started out of the F. Gilbert Hills State Park parking lot off Thurston St. Trail headed northeast with some pseudo-bushwhacking up a hill. WHO and Amish lead the pack up the hill to a check that confused most. Some went west, WIPOS and Bondo went north to a large rock, but true trail headed east led by Oozing . Who knew where Basket went (no, WHO did not know), but that was the last time anyone had seen him. Not that anyone would complain!

That our faithful RIH3 bimbo Trail Hoover was the hare, it surely inspired confidence (or stupidity) in other harrierettes to come out – including three-timer Just Sandra, the long-lost transplant Yank My Doodle, and the world-travelling RISD graduate Ponder On-It. Only Dick Doc was missing, thus eluding the trat hick. Nobody complained, particularly WIPOS, since the only reason why his wife lets him hash on Monday nights is the (false) impression that only guys partake in this weekly cult ritual. Yes, where virgins are sacrificed, it IS a cult. But I digress.

Anyway, back to the trail, true trail bent southward against all instinctive attempts by Dry Foot to lead the pack back west. Only Ponder took the bait, being continually suckered down falsies. Dr WHO and Amish blazed the way along rocky foot paths, up and down, up and down. Yank My Doodle seemed to enjoy this. Only everyone managed to twist and ankle, and/or eat dirt (just ask Just Sandra). And everyone managed to re-group heading east along Wolf Meadow Rd., where Dr. WHO, Amish, and Dry Foot took off along Tupelo Trail as Oozing headed down an obvious falsie and obviously trying to pull the rest with him. WIPOS and Bondo were perfectly content keeping Ponder, Yank My Doodle, Just Sandra, and the hare company. Who wouldn’t? Yes, WHO would, but didn’t.

After numerous marks, the FRB trio hit a large “X” on trail. Demoralized, they decided to call the others to follow. They saw seven bobbing lights slowly making their way toward them, and when they arrived, the trio broke out in sheep-talk (whatever that is), mocking the others. How pathetic! Even worse, the line of eight bobbing lights continued right past the three-some sheep, following the marks they had missed. FRBs turned DFLs in an obvious act of stupidity. Not the first time, nor will it be the last, that’s for sure!

Trail soon headed westward along High Rock Rd. where a check could have gone anywhere. WHO went north, Oozing searched south, and Dry Foot decided to look at the trail map at the intersection (brilliant!). Convinced that the beer check would be on High Rock, Dry Foot led the others westward. Just Sandra looked worried. A “BN” was soon reached and pointing southward. Next to a stream, beer was opened and savored along with chips and cheetos. All were happy and joyious! Not to mention the absence of Basket. How glorious!!!

Perfection, as it seems, would not last. Somewhere across the stream, a bobbing head lamp wandered back and forth, through briars and thickets. Everyone turned off their lights, except for Bondo, whose light was so bright, he could direct a 747 to a landing. Thus, Basket managed to join the rest. Unfortunately, there was still beer left over.

Until now, the trail was relatively eventless, despite the occasional trip over a rock (just ask Just Sandra). Realizing this, the hare decided to live-hare the rest of the trail back to the cars. Nobody made much of this, as this would surely be the shortest and easiest leg of the hash. Not! WHO, Basket, and Dry Foot got lost. Oozing led the others… lost. Ah, hashing at its best. Basket managed to bring the others back onto true trail, as he has undoubtedly visited this part of the trail at least three times searching for the pack.

Finally, all managed to reach the cars. Everyone climbed back up the hill to a large rock. WHO managed to slip and leave a good part of his shin. Surely, he did this in protest to the lack of shiggy! Just Sandra, so impressed with her third hash, couldn’t resist herself and called someone on her cell phone to tell them all about it (and missing half the circle).

Circle was held, and if I could tell you all the comments on the run, I would, but beer has this strange side-affect that hinders memory. However, I believe some comments included the loss of Basket up to the beer check, four (yes, 4!) bimbos, copious blood on trail, and multiple mis-directions by the hare (intentional or not). Only the fine weather and Basket finding the beer check hampered what could otherwise be a fine and glorious hash. Oh yeah, Async wasn’t there to remind the hare what time of the month it was for her. Needless to say, everyone else did. Total: +0.69! Hashit to Bondo for leading Basket to the BC.

Minus Yank My Doodle, everyone meandered down to Box Seats for some beer and grub. Even stuffing the pack into the back room away from the others didn’t stop the compliments and praises from the patrons to the point where the manager had to tell us to shut-up. It seems the football clientelle have moral limits! Thank God for the hash to put things into proper perspective! Thankful that we didn’t chase ALL the patrons out of the restaurant, the manager offered gifts (little bar trinkets) and gift certificates (5 bucks each), enticing us to return and entertain others. When will they ever learn?

 

On On

Dry Foot Fairy