The Frozen Members Hash

Run #1088, February 5, 2007

Hare:  Oozing

Location:  Lincoln, RI

Weather:  10s, clear, windy

Present:  Amish Ithead, Basket, Dr. WHO, Seamus, Eenie Weenie Dick, Justin My Ass, Dry Foot Fairy, Fuwangi Boner.

The Run:

I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV. Or at work. Or wherever I can convince women to let me look at their lady parts and quickly run away before the cops show up. One thing about being a (fake) doctor is that you get a good idea of what a person’s made of. What they’ve got going on inside their head and what they may have going on downstairs. In the case of the RIH3, there ain’t much in the groinal area (this is the technical term, “crotch” to the layman), and on this night there was even was even less as the winds whipped along to the tune of a -10 to -15F wind chill. Not even some IPA could get those things to unshrivel!

The hash started with a little excitement, more than we’d see on trail, and definitely more than we’d see for days until “things” thawed out. The Man. The Fuzz. Johnny Law. Apparently a group of people standing together in a restaurant parking lot appears suspicious, and a few patrons of the Lodge called for the cops to come check us out. Makes sense though, the RIH3 is a rough and tumble gang of thugs (hahahaha), but after the first, second and a little later, third, cop realized we were no harm we were left back to our own pathetic existences.

As 6:30 rolled around (quite slowly too, that cold air made the clocks move at half their normal pace) the on-in was located behind the Lodge, leading northwest. Basket jumped out front while the rest huddled together in a pack in attempt to stay warm. Trail continued towards the north, then east, then southeast and then south back to……………the Lodge parking lot. Brilliant! We’d gone nowhere by going somewhere. By this time Fuwangi had arrived and graced us with his presence by coming in the out way. Hey, I’m not one to judge - whatever floats his boat.

The hare told us true trail was across the street in Lincoln Woods, so we all ran in that direction, past the cops, and up the hill into the darkness. Once again the cold wind ripped through us, almost bringing some to a halt. A path was found leading towards the southwest and not too soon after a check was found. WHO went left and downhill along the smooth, snow-covered rocks. Fuwangi went right and farther uphill. Amish went, well – the only other way, straight. After two marks he turned around most likely due to the cold air freezing his eyeballs blind. After a quick jaunt downhill to find WHO it was determined that this was not the correct way to go, so uphill they went and WHO and Fuwangi found trail leading straight past where Amish had stopped.

I can’t remember where Justin, Eenie Weenie and Dry Foot were, I can only assume there was some butt-to-nut huddling action going on to keep warm. I can’t lie; I’d like to have been asked to join in.

After a bit another check was encountered and with WHO continuing to the left and downhill to a fence. A lovely, wire fence. Our hare is quite familiar with those, and would once again have a close encounter before the night was over. Down the fence a “B” was found, a quick hop over and climb up the biggest rock in the field had us at the beer check. The cold, cold, windy beer check. Apparently we were on private property and in the middle of a livestock pasture, but that didn’t stop us from chugging beer down, shivering, and trying to get the damn thing over with as soon as possible. Although, with no Basket we did have the slight desire to stick around and enjoy the peacefulness. As we sat there, lights out, we could see him coming down the path and attempted to hide our location by sitting silently. This was not to help, as Oozing has enough reflective tape on his jacket/pants to bring a 747 in on final approach and with a quick sweep of his light Basket easily picked us up. A few songs were sung, but mainly everyone wanted out.

Hopping the fence again had us turn to the left, back up to a set of power lines and back to Breakneck Hill Rd and the Lodge. Beer check was held in the woods, Basket announced his daughter had been married that day, and we bashed the hare for such a crappy trail. But a short trail, and most appreciative in the weather conditions we had. Boos included the lack of frozen lake shiggy, cheesy circle jerk at the beginning, and the fact that Basket found the beer check. Cheers were – well, it was short? Mathematical total: -6.9! The hashit was awarded to Basket for being himself as we all wanted to get warmed up in the Lodge. The waitresses apologized the cops, remembered WHO we were, but not that we ran on Mondays. Sure. Their attempt to get us hauled off was foiled.

The usual food throwing, black and tan mixing and immaturity was to follow. Immaturity that usually occurs pre-puberty, but with their members shrunken and frozen this almost made sense……

On On

Amish It Head