New Years Hash

Run #1083, January 1, 2007

Hare:  Bondo Jovi

Location:  Manville Park, North Smithfield

Weather:  High 40’s, Clear

Present:  Dr WHO, Dry Foot Fairy, Async, Basket Boom Boom, Short Peck, Justin My Ass, Eenie Weenie Dick, WIPOS, Shine On, Friar F*ck, Seamus, Ben. Visitors: Muffalotta, Mr Rogers, Hare Club for Queers. (BH3).

The Lazy Ones:  : Just Big Sh*t, Dogmeat.

The Run:

Haring on the first day of the year has its rewards. It assuredly will be the best Hash of the year, and if all works out well, the pack will be so hung over from the previous night’s activities they may not be aware how pathetic the trail may actually be. This was the case for Bondo, but it’s my job to set the record straight, even if he isn’t.

The directions were sufficient to allow a fairly good size contingent to arrive at 2PM, an early start for a RIH3 event. Even the Wankers from Bean Town, who are always on Hash Time, arrived just after the start. They lost little time in catching the pack, as we crossed Old River Road on the way to beautiful downtown Manville. This name connotes a town named after the RIH3, but is quite misleading, as there are many women here, and most were imported from Canada during the early part of our nation’s history. They were quiet efficient in cooking, cleaning and keeping the beds warm at night, so the local Frenchmen brought them down by the bucket loads. Bondo’s father was among them. He chose a quiet petite Canadian/Squaw who was quick with a smile or knife depending upon the situation. Bondo takes after her that way.

A check at the corner of Mowry and Division streets had us off in all directions of the compass, but true trail was found heading north on Division to Bouvier. Unfortunately, Basket was heading west on Central, a dead end and had to bushwhack through some back yards, where he met up with Friar and Mr Rogers.

The fact that our Hare was setting this on all roads was causing some of us to consider turning back and having a beer at the Harmony Café just around the corner. This bar was notorious as the location of a confrontation between the bartender lady and our own Red Snapper a few years ago. RS asked the somewhat disheveled barmaid if she was on drugs causing her to complain loudly brining the local patrons from the front room back to see what all the commotion was about. In the bathroom later, Basket overheard two locals at the trough saying how they were going to ‘fix’ these arseholes. The event ended with the RIH3 sneaking out the back door before the locals strung us up for messin’ with their lady(?), but that’s another story.

The trail continued down Railroad Street, where the sneaky hare placed his marks on the river side and hidden behind the road barrier and telephone poles, but WHO and Async saw his ruse and led the pack towards Woonsocket. There were many opportunities to go left and up trails towards the power lines, but the timid hare has just gotten over his nightmares of Woonsocket’s finest, gun in hand, placing him alone in the back of the squad car, and Bondo, ‘You’ll never take me alive Copper!” wasn’t going to go there ever again.

So the pack plodded along the road, complaining that this was no way to cure a hangover, and why didn’t we just stay at home and have a Bloody Mary’s instead. At least there should be a beer stop shortly and we could cool our heels a bit, but that didn’t happen. No we continued until we found ourselves entering the hills of Bernon Street and eventually the west end of Woonsocket itself.

The trail meandered along riverside streets until we came out at River Island Park and crossing the Blackstone, we finally found a good check at Old English Fish and Chips. From here we continued up River and we knew there would be no beer until we made it to the hare’s house. So we dropped the charade of following marks and ran the most direct route to Meadow Rd., where Bondo was already pouring himself a pint and giggling at the displeasure written all over our faces. The stragglers arrived slowly, with DFL’s Friar and Muff arriving some time later.

The circle was finally started and comments from Best Hash (from Bondo) to ”WORST HASH of the YEAR” was repeated by all. It’s interesting to watch as more Bondo Brew is consumed the ' better the Hash becomes, and soon we were all singings phrases to the lord, Bondo. Then we adjourned to the vestibule for some post religion snacks and beverages. The Hare wanted to make something different, so we were introduced to Bondo (no salt) Meat Pie following in his Canadian tradition. There’s no wonder why the mortality rate was so high back then. This was the only time the hash left food on the table when we left for the night. Luckily Ben has a taste for road kill and ate the remaining 5 pies were that were not frozen and saved for our next hash event here.

On On

Basket Boom Boom