If the Run doesn't get you, the directions will!

Run # 549 December 9th, 1996

Hare: Little Neck

by Snot

IAfter driving seventy bloody miles on the Sunday to get to a Newport run with instructions leading to the armory, what they fail to tell us is which one, I found three! Both Basket and I going round in circles, I eventually went home and Basket unknown to me was still driving around for a further two hours before two solitary runners showed. What a piss poor excuse for a Hash, Newport, come to see how a real Hash is run.

However this week was a little different as the instructions were almost as poor quality as Newport’s, which had been put onto our great new web page (Produced by Async) Basket’s instructions were obviously given when he had consumed one two many Rolling Rocks (his favorite beer), up 146 to the 126 exit, only problem was there is no exit labeled 126 and I as well as Rusty went almost to bloody Seekonk, before U turning. In America the last place you go to ask directions is a petrol (gas) station I am just amazed the workers get there, after asking three stuffed attendants for help, one had no idea and the other two reached for maps in a different state. I decided to head into Lincoln and went into an off license (liquor store) as always these guys are quite bright (except Basket), this particular gent directed me to the venue, Lincoln Davies Tech. To which I arrived at 6.40pm. It so happens one of the new boots had somehow made it-Wynn. I later learned another new boot was still driving around at 7.00pm. He however wants to come again to meet the pratt who gave such disgusting directions. In your defense Basket and I didn’t tell him who it was, I suggested good Hashers always find the run, providing there is one at the appointed time, unlike some beginning with N. But I have to agree these were shit instructions plus to add insult to injury Basket parked over the on out direction, and who said he didn’t deserve the Hashshit for the rest of the year.

Being a determined Bastard I set off only to slip on some ice and cut my leg open, tourniquet applied I continued leaving my own trail of red marks which soon stopped in the cold low 30’s air. As usual I was last again but felt quite comfortable as this was my usual position at the start of most runs, fortunately our hare Little Neck had left a reasonable trail with colored flour but in the snow it was easy to follow the trail, the next part was the only part where Basket was useful, the sound of breaking wind, no it was a bugle-I thought. Sure enough in the distance was the distinctive noise of the RIH3 “where the f*** is the trail” I yelled out how are yuu, Hopeless came out of the thorns trying to avoid a water crossing as usual and in no time at all I was at the front leading the pack before everybody overtook me. Marks were tough to see especially when the torch (flashlight) batteries run low, I don’t know about Duracell I always manage to buy the batteries that have already been tested for hours and hours. The run was cunning in the way nobody could find the trail at the checks because you could not see the bloody marks! On more than one occasion our hare helped to bring back our new boots, the shiggy was plentiful with the water under the ice being f***** cold on more than one occasion.

Basket as usual went on one of his own trails before catching up with the rest of the pack round a big loop through every bit of shiggy and ice water in Lincoln. Finally arriving at the beer stop, with the new boots not knowing what to expect next. The beer unlike the run was actually quite good and was the only thing not frozen. The on home was fairly straight forward through the grounds of Lincoln Tech, on route Rusty and Basket clashed with Basket accidentally on purpose catching Rusty in the eye for the poxy instructions given by the Newport Hash last Sunday. Circle up in the car park with runners present being Basket, Rusty (Newport), Hopeless, Ringworm (Idaho Hash),Crew Doo, Wynn(new boot), Little Neck (hare) and of course your newly appointed Hon Sec (scribe). The run was rated far too highly by the newcomers but was soon brought down to a more respectable level by the more experienced members plus one was the final gross average which was the highest rating for any run this week. Beer was getting low but was understandable from previous attendance levels, with ceremonies for hare, visitors and virgins complete it was round to Little Necks pad for some healthy grub and more good beer.

The singing was by far the best heard for over a year, the song book was very useful but our virgin Wynn had great trouble remembering the words, which qualifies him for the RIH3. Maybe it was the beer but a good time was had by all. The following morning your scribe woke up with a pair of lips any true African gentleman would have been proud of, if you had licked my lips you could have stuck me on any window. My eyes looked as though I had been ten rounds with Mike Tyson, a food allergy had finally got the man who thought he could eat anything, I can only pin it down to two things the black beans (or was it Iguana shit) or my bodies reaction to the awful singing, the latter it has to be because the food was bloody good grub and nobody else suffered. Much to the amusement of my work colleagues I went to work but the prescribed tablets took effect very quickly. Listen guys whatever you do, either piss poor instructions, poison or whatever the British Snot is here to stay. (Until my work contract runs out).

On-On

Snot

(32nd Run in RI)