Blackstone River Park/Bikeway, Cumberland and Lincoln

Run #1037, February 13, 2006

Hare:  Fuwangi Boner

Location:  I-did-a-rod Hash.

Weather:  20’s, Clear, Full Moon.

Present:  Dr WHO, Bondo Jovi, Basket Boom Boom, Oozing SD, WIPOS, Tinker. Visitors from Boston: Amazon.cum, Cocktologist, Pudd Pirate, Holy O!zone. Lost in Woonsocket: Great at Giving Head, Amish It Head, Cum Under PSHS. Dogteam: Seamus, Ben.

 

The Run:

There was lots of snow. It was cold. Fuwangi was hare. The directions sucked. The trail sucked. The marks sucked. The beer sucked. The run sucked. The directions REALLY sucked! Big surprise. Let us illustrate: From the emails:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeremy Miller wrote:
Well I tried, but apparently not hard enough. After I decided to take my car for a nice little 60 mile cruise, I found myself in Woonsocket and thought, "What the heck, why not hash tonight?" Unfortunately, I didn't have my secret decoder ring to decipher the d'erections (they don't give out the decoder rings to non-RIers). I called Amish, because I've heard that two half-minds are almost as good as one, but his secret decoder wasn't getting reception and - ah fuck it, let's call the whole thing off.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

----- Original Message -----
From: John Lukens
To: Jeremy Miller
Subject: Fuwangied again

14 02 06

You'd have to get inside Fuwangi's half mind to figure out those misdirections, and frankly, let's not go there.

OOT

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You weren’t the only one mislead by the directions. Evidently Cumunder made an attempt to join us too and actually found the parking lot. However, without marks leading out toward trail, she decided to forgo waiting for us and made her way home.

The two of you were the lucky ones; the rest of us had to follow another sad attempt at a Boner trail.

Evidently he thought this an opportunity to stick it to us on the straight and narrow bike path, for way to many miles. The only high points of the evening were Bondo bailing out with a booboo on his foot, poor baby, and two 19 year olds, beautiful babies.

They were cute, naive and rather stupid to pick us up, and drive the smart ones back to the start. The fact that 6 of us, along with Seamus and the two girls fit into that Ford Focus says more about the bad trail than anything.

Oozing, WIPOS and the Hare thought a continuation of the agony of the trail, in reverse, was better than running down the street, where we found the lucky ride. Lucky for them, there was beer left at the circle when they finally returned.

We were out 4 hours and found the kitchen closed at the first choice for the après, but managed to confuse a few patrons at Chile’s at our last resort. We arrived just minutes before they closed, so we didn’t have to boil the hare for sustenance. In hindsight, that might not have been a bad idea, the boiling not the eating.

OnOn
Basket Boom Boom

----------------------------------------------------------

We did go to Box Seats in Woonsocket though. No singing though, so the manager couldn't complain about "lost" tables like the last time we went to Box Seats up in MA. If the hash was anything like the directions it had to suck, maybe we're glad we didn't make it

G@GH!

----------------------------------------------------------

From: Sajid Choudhry
To: "Jeremy Miller" jdm194@hotmail.com

You happened upon the alternate hash-keep posted for the write up!
Oozing

-----------------------------------------------------------

Not sure if you're hinting at anything Oozing, but G@GH and I had no "alternative" hash - purely beers and burgers at Box Seats. We didn't go watch Brokeback Mtn like Basket and Bondo........
Amish

-----------------------------------------------------------

If only there’d been a few more emails, this write-up could have been avoided!

The hare sent the hash out from the Stop and Shop parking lot, SOUTH of 295 on Mendon Road. He had used this spot for his hash of one year (less a week and a day ago - #985). (That one was an abortion also!) Trail was negotiated by the hare, Basket, Bondo, Oozing and WIPOS using skis in the 10” of fresh snow. Amazon opted for snowshoes. Dr WHO and the Boston men went with running shoes. Tinker, arriving late, stayed in his car. Oh aged and wise one, we worship you!

The hare led south through the parking lot. They reversed direction on the bike path before the bridge, and turned northwest in snow. At least one mark was seen. Crossing the river on a bridge with a double check, Oozing and Basket found true trail reversing again between the canal and the river south. Bondo and WIPOS continued northwest.

The trail soon came out on pavement. It went out past the parking lot for the bike path, onto Rt 123. Turning left, the Boston runners led to a “SC”, next to the John Street Bridge. The hare led under the bridge and broke out PEPPERMINT SCHNAPPS!?? (The “S” actually stands for SHITE!) Naturally, this check didn’t last long. But the hare was live-setting from this point. So, the group whiled away a few minutes with a few songs. (Nothing like those under bridge acoustics.) Then back out they went, north on the driveway to the abandoned drive-in theater.

They came back onto Mendon road. They crossed the bridge and were back at the Stop and Shop. After some confused milling about and near-traffic-accidents, a light tan colored arrow was found, directing them back onto the bike path. They were repeating the first part of the trail! What a wank! On they went, strapping the skis back on, and crossing the bridge they followed now in Bondo and WIPOS’ footsteps. The trail became a trek. Fighting the winds and snow drifts, no marks to speak of, but no options for checks, this was becoming an athletic event. Or even more apt, a fight for survival against the elements with only a few sips of nauseatingly sweet rotgut gurgling uneasily in the stomach to sustain them. At least 2.5 miles of straight, snow-covered pavement, and to make it even worse, they encountered first Bondo, then WIPOS and finally the hare!

Bondo having been overtaken, decided that no beer from this hare could be worth it. He whined about blisters on his heels, and reversed direction. The rest struggled on. They passed the Martin Street Bridge. They continued northwest. Finally, they came to the 116 Bridge. The hare declared it the BC. But there was no beer. He went off up the embankment to get the brew. The group sat on a wooden railing at the parking area by Littleneck’s old house. They knew the hare must have a second car stashed up there somewhere. There must be a ride back. Whew!

The hare brought down the beer. They replenished. No one had much energy for singing. Then, a bombshell! The hare expected everyone to run/ski back on the bike path. Unbelievable! Unacceptable! Only Oozing and WIPOS turned back to catch Bondo with the hare. The rest decided to try their luck on Mendon Road. They crossed the footbridge, and in the parking lot of the converted factory, ran into the two saintly teens described by Basket’s email above. There IS a God. And he’s laughing at Oozing and WIPOS!

Back at the cars, the group found Bondo. They drove to the parking lot off 123 where the hare had planned to meet for the circle. They easily found the beer. All of them kept warm in Bondo’s van, with beer and a progressively more naked Bondo offering the Bostonians aromatic samplings of his intimate anatomy. Basket went out to let the hare, Oozing and WIPOS know to join the circle. And the circle was finally formed.

Ratings mentioned the extreme length (both distance and time: more than 5 miles for most, more like 7 for Oozing and WIPOS, and 3 hours!), the poor markings, the repetitive loop, etc. Only the snow, the loss of Bondo just before the BC, and the Ford (some kind of mini-SUV, not a Focus. Maybe Basket meant “F**K Us”.) allowed the hare to escape with a -6.9! Hashit: any guesses? Bondo, of course. The visitors were abused, as if they had not suffered enough. The circle was concluded. They drove off to Tucks. It was closed. A crowning touch! They ended up in the Chili’s at the Lincoln Mall. Arriving home well after midnight, most of them asked themselves why, oh why do we keep doing this? No answers forthcoming, they drifted off into fitful sleep. And memory playing the usual hash tricks, all was forgotten the next day.

On On