RIH3 and Hartford H3, Unofficial Hash

Location: Manchester Pub Run, CT

Hare:  Just Kevin

Weather: Clear, high 50’s

Present: Fuwangi Boner, WIPOS, The Slasher Dr W.H.O., Follow My Tits, Just Kevin, Just Matt (one-time Boston H3).
Virgins: Just Me, Just Mike, Just Wanker.

The Run:

Just Kevin, a Hartford H3 few-time hasher, and notorious Clydesdale, has taken over some of the organizational reins of the 17th Annual Manchester Pub Run. This venerable event involves running a 5K (more or less) course through Manchester, CT while stopping at six pubs to consume a beer. Strictly speaking, this is a r*ce of sorts. But no one in their right mind is trying that hard anyways. And the trail is poorly marked, it never starts on time, there is considerable confusion on the part of the onlookers, and it is remarkably stupid. Perfect for hashers. Too bad there’s no shiggy in Manchester, CT.

Dr WHO led a contingent of WIPOS and Fuwangi Boner from the RIH3. Follow My Tits and Just Kevin represented the HardFarts. Just Matt, the eventual winner of the event, has hashed with Boston once. Three rugby players who ran were recruited into the circle as virgins and were made hashers. Basket Boom Boom received honorary Hashit in absentia. So with this write-up, all the elements are in place to consider this an official hash.

The start was at the Manchester High School, in the back parking lot, hidden from the view of the responsible. Just Matt took off, not to be seen again until he greeted all the others as they finished. Among the regular hashers, Fuwangi initially led, west on the Middle Turnpike to Rt 83 and the Main Pub. But WHO and Just Kevin were on his heels and with years of experience at swilling beer, were back out on trail first. FMT was not far behind, but WIPOS (without his stick and wearing SHORTS!) was pacing himself. Trail led south on 83 with several chances to die prematurely crossing back to the east side of the road, and then crossing Rt6/44.

Next stop was Cheney’s, famed for the intense gaseousness of its beer.  Actually, calling any of this stuff beer is an intense exaggeration. But no one said this had to be fun. Kind of like running with Boston, come to think of it. Next up, less than a third of a mile away was a left turn to the Oak Street Tavern. WHO was in control at this point, in a rhythm that allowed the sloshing beer in his stomach form a harmonic and to actually increase his speed, much like the pumping arms of the elite sprinter. He was closely pursued by Just Kevin who kept up with incredible 10 second beer times in the pubs.  Fuwangi, fading fast, got lost. FMT was losing time by insisting on Coca-Cola in each pub because of her alcohol intolerance.

Meanwhile WIPOS continued steady but watched an inning of the Red Sox game in each pub, drifting further to the DFL spot. The Sportsman’s Pub was next, maybe 200 yards away from Oak Street. The short distances worked against the runners as there was insufficient time to clear the top layer of gas from the stomach. Any belch from this point on meant re-swallowing six or seven ounces of warm beer, an almost certain recipe for disqualification. They continued south to number five, the Hungry Tiger, on Rt 534, where a group of rowdies in the outdoor seating provided color commentary on the runners.

The last leg was the longest. West on 534, back north on 83 and the east again on Oak Street. The spectators beckoning one back for a second visit to the Oak Street Tavern have been the undoing of more than one participant in the past. But the beer quality doesn’t make an extra all that tempting, so WHO cruised past, ignoring an elderly female participant who called after him derisively: “Hey! You can’t skip one!”

The end of the event comes with the downing of the second beer at the Sportsman’s. Just Matt had indeed finished first, and by the time WHO had arrived, was well on his way to getting completely crocked. Luckily, he only had to drive back to Boston that evening. Finishing a solid sixth, WHO felt thirsty for some beer for a change of pace, so he bought a Long Trail Ale and went outside to watch for the others. Just Kevin was right behind him. Fuwangi arrived and got into a challenge with another resulting in a chugged beer, which soon reappeared on the pavement outside. (After the finish, so no DQ!) FMT and WIPOS came in more sedately. It was decided to circle up.

After “The Monks” was sung, the run was rated. Just Kevin was stuck taking times at the finish line, so missed his down down as “hare”. Dr WHO took responsibility and was duly punished. Soon three rugby players came up to ask about the songs. They were joined into the circle for as long as the beer remained free. Fuwangi was dementor and asked them each three questions for which no intelligible answers could be detected, although there was a) some self-abuse, b) some homosexuality, c) a fondness for sheep, and d) demonstrated a complete failure of the mathematical educational systems of this country regarding the determination of a square-root. They “Swang Low” and closed the circle.

Dr WHO led the hash contingent back to the cars while awaiting the barbeque. Follow My Tits demonstrated the rationale for her name. WIPOS, desperate for shiggy, scaled a fence at the high school. WHO and Fuwangi scoured the neighboring brush for some poison ivy or briars. The beer was still free so Just Matt and Just Kevin stayed at the bar and drank heavily. By the time they all got back to the Sportsman’s, the hamburgers, hot dogs and chicken were ready, and the afternoon was complete. An event worth any hasher’s time; hopefully we’ll be there in greater force next year.

On On