The Second Time Around isn’t a Better Hash (writeup)

Run #1060, July 24, 2006

Hare:  Dr WHO

Location:  West Coventry, RI

Weather:  70s and sunny

Present:  Oozing, WIPOS, Great at Giving Head, Dry Foot Fairy, Bondo Jovi, Poly, Justin My Ass, Eenie Weenie Dick, Cumunder, Amish Ithead, Ansyc, Basket Boom Boom, Trail Hoover, Pecker Checker.

The Run:

Ok, so the Man must be watching my email. I’ve attempted to send a few hash writeups home recently and they get lost in cyberspace. Not bounced back here to work, not in my email junk section, not in my inbox (hehe, inbox). Just gone. And being the brightest person in the world I delete the writeups as soon as I email them off, so they’re gone for good (kinda like our wishes for Bondo and Ben). So, this is attempt #2 (hehe, #2). I’m sure it won’t be as good, I’m sure it won’t be as long, and I’m sure it won’t leave you as satisfied…….kinda like other things in my life, but that’s a whole ‘nother story and one I’m not going to share!

It was a great day, plenty warm and plenty sunny. WHO had us drive all the way out to West Bumblefuck, RI and convene at Carbuncle Pond. There had been previous mention on how this hash would be great due to its timing with deer fly season. And how there were bogs and swamps and monsters and hidden kegs of the most magical beer on earth. You know what I remember about this hash? It was free t-shirt day! Kinda like when you go to the monster truck show, or when the Bacardi girls show up at the bar. Mmmmm, Bacardi girls. Ok – need to stay focused. Anyway, the group met up on the east side of the lake and trail led out northeast. At least from what I’m told.

This trail managed to break the group up into two sections. The first was a large group that took off going counterclockwise around the pond. It included Bondo, Poly, Basket, G@GH, Justin My Ass and some other wanks. That’s ok, but why waste time getting to the beer? The second was a smaller group that took off on their own clockwise around the pond. This second group was also quicker, and better looking if I must say so myself, and included Dry Foot, Amish, Oozing, WIPOS and Bondo (ok so he doesn’t fit in this group – but when does he fit into anything?). Since I’m writing this a second time here at work and happen to have my calculator out for important military death-like stuff I’m going to test everyone. Let’s guess that WHO’s trail was 2.87 miles long, without falsies to make it easier. And let’s say that the larger, slower, less attractive subgroup of the hash manages to run at a trail pace of 9.65 min miles. And the smaller, faster, more attractive subgroup of the hash manages to run at a trail pace of 8.31 min miles. If no beer check was present, how long would it take for the two groups to meet up and at what distance would it be from the start? GO!

Ok, ok. Do you have an answer yet? If you said “69min at a distance of 0.69 miles from the start” you’re a genius and all of us at the RIH3 look forward to you joining us again. If you said “12.81456 min at a distance of 1.32793367876 miles from the start” we’d all point, laugh and tell you to go home and play with your Dungeon and Dragon buddies. We don’t need nerds like you in the RIH3!

The area Carbuncle Pond was pretty picturesque, and as the smaller, faster, and better looking subgroup continued around the pond’s edge they encountered a pair of women riding horses (not to be confused with the woman/horse riding stuff you’re used to looking up on the internet you sickos!) WHO managed to spit out that no flour was seen on the trails they traveled. A little farther around, and close to a nice looking swamp that was never transversed, one was seen, and WIPOS, Amish and Dry foot headed uphill. Oozing decided to proceed around the pond for whatever reason he saw fit.

I’d guess at this point some good bonding, a few checks and tons of flour were encountered by the larger, slower, less attractive subgroup of the hash. Good for them.

Not much after the smaller, faster, and better looking subgroup of the hash had made the trip uphill and proceeded right, they encountered a stream, complete with a small waterfall. How cute! What’s cuter than that you ask? Definitely not Basket in a pink pair of panties, which I can unfortunately confirm through experience, but a “B” on the other side of the stream. Aha! The beer check. And with plenty of time to finish off the stash before the larger, slower, less attractive subgroup of the hash would show up. But the beer was nowhere to be found. It appeared this was a good trick by the hare and after 10 min of searching the group proceeded on trail feeling just a little down that the beer wasn’t so close. Basket proceeded to plow through the woods like he knew where he was going. He didn’t. And Amish proceeded to follow Basket like he trusted him. He didn’t. After a small stream crossing into marshland showed no marks, Amish turned back around. A little bushwhacking here, a little bushwhacking there and true trail was found. Everyone in the smaller, faster, and better looking subgroup was sure the beer was near. Except for one person, Dry Foot!, WHO knew the beer was near as he’d found it back a the check without telling anyone. Useless wank! Amish ended up coming nose-to-nose with Eenie Weenie and Justin My Ass, who brought along the rest of the crew. Actually, WHO did, as he was just behind the dynamic duo.

After we’d found out that the beer was indeed back at the waterfall all turned around to search for Dry Foot, who if he was smart would have carried the beer back to the pond’s edge and relaxed by himself. But, because he’s not smart he didn’t go far and eventually came out of the trees to share with others. Awww, can you feel the love? Not really, but unfortunately (as mentioned above), some managed to see Basket’s “love” as he stood in the water with a pair of panties he found on trail. Now, I’m sure that a majority of the male hashers present would have a hard time saying no to the opportunity of getting into a girl’s panties, but I don’t think trail treasure really counts. What does count is a girl with a wet t-shirt, which happened to be Hoover in the pond just below the waterfall. Yahoo! Beer was consumed, nuts (neither hot, nor Basket’s) were enjoyed and all commented on just how crappy this hash was. Some used the algae covered rocks on the waterfall as a slip ’n slide, others watched. And then it happened, just as soon as the beer was opened it seemed like it was gone. Not too uncommon at the hash.

The pack rallied together and proceeded back on some nicely manicured trails around the south end of Carbuncle Pond and to the cars. With the setting sun and only a few locals fishing it seemed that the pond would be the perfect place to circle up. The water was warm initially due only to the sun, later due to Bondo’s addition of some 98.6 degree fluids. As songs were sung the locals left, presumably to call the cops and bring the fun to an end. Oozing yapped his mouth about the World Cup, and noone paid attention. Bondo yapped about how shitty trail was. Noone paid attention. Cumunder yapped about not wanting to get back into the water. None paid attention. Lack of virgin territory, no deer flies despite them being talked up, no Fawangi, Bondo passing over the beer at the beer check and a record-setting three bimbo run managed to get WHO an amazing -0.69. Yahoo! Hashit went to Bondo because, well, he’s Bondo. And Dry Foot complained that no matter what he does, including stealing beer, he’s never good enough to get the hashit. None paid attention.

After what seemed like a half-hour drive the group finally showed up at the on-on-on where the best part of the night was to occur. No, not the tick race that WHO started on the dinner table, but FREE t-shirts! Those of us looking for RIH3 shirts finally got our dreams answered (can’t we have better dreams than this???), but along came the risk of contracting some weird disease from Basket. Can anything worn by him really be clean? As more beers were drunk we sang, much to two table’s enjoyment. We were actually encouraged. Do the locals have no smarts!? Once things dried up shirts were gathered, everyone slinked away into the night.

On On

Amish It Head