Hash Trash - Run #267
Montreal Hash House Harriers
Hash Trash by Eager Beaver, Stand-in Hash Scribe
Downtown Montreal, Sunday, December 2nd @ 1 PM
Hares:
Blow J*b
Hashers:
Abbot, Bl*w Job (hare), Dingo Dave, Eager Beaver, Giggles, Julius Seizure, Lady
Dye, Mustapha Kunt, Rub-a-Dub, Skinflint, Turkish Delight, Yogi.
The pre-run congregation
The outlook was dreary and the weather cool as I stepped out of the McGill metro station at precisely 1pm in anticipation of a hashing crowd eager to tackle Bl*w Job’s promising trail. Reaching the University-St.-Catherines intersection, I was immediately surrounded by two hashers, including the hare, overjoyed to spot a potential running mate. I looked around for the HHH markings in the hope of getting an early start on the run and leaving the late comers to their own devices, but could spot none, though Bl*w Job assured me that the markings were swept away by an especially diligent municipal worker doing the tax payer proud. An ill-definable wet spot was also visible in the vicinity, the mark, no doubt, of a would-be hasher with a particularly sharp instinct for trail offences; the culprit, alas, escaped unapprehended.
As hash-time (1:15) approached, so did a negligible number of other hashers. Most were surprised to see Rub-a-Dub come back to us so soon after his departure to Toronto (just making sure we were all getting his internet-posted updates perhaps), and what more with a pretty young Hog Town hasher named Giggles. Another noteworthy arrival was Yogi’s, who casually made his way to the pre-hash with an equally casual stroll-fitting attire, cell-phone and all. He proceeded to ask a hapless old lady who approached us with an index-card elaborating her troubles if she was hashing with us. Final arrangements for excess baggage-storage in cars were made (though, as we shall see, not all were equally lucky) and before long we were all sick enough of each other’s civilized company to launch our attack on the trail.
The (aforementioned) Trail
True to form, Bl*w Job laid his trail with methodical precision. He strategically placed his well-measured arrows in close proximity to buildings so that we would not fight a losing battle with the city’s street-sweepers. It took me a while to follow this particular logic, but I eventually caught on. The arrows themselves were apparently measured with some exactitude. One might even say they were a little small. Aside from Bl*w Job himself and Yogi as his walking sidekick, the rather smaller than usual group was one of especially keen runners; so much so, in fact, that the frb’s (Mustapha, Dingo, and yours truly) were consistently caught-up with by the rest. Bl*w Job, of course, could not have foreseen this, and his brilliant idea of mysteriously appearing out of nowhere just before one of the first checkpoints and furnishing the frb’s with pieces of chalk with which to mark the eventual directions the checkpoints were to reveal, was quite the trick. Mustapha Kunt, of course, clumsily fumbled the whole exercise — but all in due course.
The trail took us around in circles within the downtown core, but eventually led us up the mountain — and to some speculation as to possible beer-stops along the way (Turkish Delight’s place? Dingo’s? Perhaps even the palace of the absent Krystal Tits?). But the final destination was, sadly, divined before even the run itself commenced, as Skinflint made a lucky guess, thereby coercing the hopelessly honest Bl*w Job to concede that yes, it was the notorious Peel Pub.
The Notorious Peel Pub
Despite this pre-run admission, more than a few hashers appeared to be disoriented in the Peel Pub’s welcoming surroundings, some even going so far as to question if the locale was in fact the trail’s final destination and venturing wild speculations as to it being a mere beer-stop (truth be told, the trail was rather on the shortish side). When spirits settled in regards to the location dispute, hashers astutely began wondering where be beer; most, even more astutely, noted that their hash cash was in their respective cars, parked some ways away. Mustapha Kunt showed his true colours, selflessly pulling out his plastic and offering to buy beer immediately. But it was, once again, Bl*w Job who saved the day, valiantly paying up hash cash despite being hare. Everybody settled down, Turkish Delight noted some numbers on a napkin, and the golden fluid flowed.
The Circle in the Notorious Peel Pub
It was, in time, noted that not one, but two G.M’s, were conspicuously missing. Abbot temporarily relinquished his R.A. status and functioned as stand-in G.M. Following a down-down for the hare, down-down’s were ceremoniously awarded to Rub-a-Dub and Giggles for being Maple-Leaf fans and someone — who, I can’t quite recall — was made to drink beer out of his new hashoes. Yogi was given a down-down for being running-challenged. Then, in a strange twist of events, the reins were handed over to Lady Dye. As R.A., Lady proved to be a particularly vicious tyrant with a taste for sadism. Julius Seizure was made to take a down-down on his knees for running with a backpack for a good portion of the trail. Mustapha was admonished for misleading the hashers at a checkpoint and, not having the wherewithal to use initials, adorning the ill-fated arrow with his given name (as far as we all know, anyway). A back-to-back down-down was saved for Dingo and Mustapha for going up a hill or some such nonsense; they were forced, along with the rest of the waiting circle, to endure a foul tale from Lady while grabbing at each other. The crowd of the Peel Pub was but slightly bemused. I recommend sensitivity training for the so-called Lady.
Following the singing of the hash hymn, the circle was summarily dismissed; individual hashers showed their generosity by buying extra pitchers and about a hundred or so chicken wings were consumed, with the sole vegetarian in the crowd patiently waiting for his hashoe to dry. But no matter. Turkish Delight showed us some hash quilt samples with cute little animals on them.
The End.
On-on.
Eager Beaver.