The Late Train Hash
Last Updated (Thursday, 20 November 2008 05:38) Written by Stevie Blunder Wednesday, 19 November 2008 00:00
This hash was bound to failure right from the beginning. This was Maximus's first Milanese hash, a hasher trained in Rome (spit).
The flyer came out only hours before the event was scheduled for and with very misleading instructions. The location was difficult to get to and despite the name "the late train hash" the area was and intersection of train lines, with adjacent shanty towns, but not a proper station in site. To make things worse we were instructed to follow Roman Hash rules. Shortly into the run we were told that the trail had been set the day before, not that anyone in the area was going to clean up, however the flower might have been mistaken for other things. Another small twist to the tradition was that the song stop was substituted by a Pray Stop, my Gus that is all we needed.
The run started really late but just as well because runners appeared at all times. The GM was in particularly good mood, lots of pee-able areas made him feel at home and thanks to his last training for the Milan Marathon made him look all over for the trail. That is till he went down some dark dead end and miss took my nails for some hound attacking him.
The beer stop was early in to the run and that is when things started getting better specially because in such an area nobody thought we were getting such a treat. The hare had brought cash, something Hash Cash had forgotten the previous run. Hanna, still waiting for a hash name, started revealing her self. She has always kept a low profile during circles professing some allergy to beer only to discover that she was a Spritz, as many other cocktail fan. Welcome to the Milan hash!
The circle turned out to be the tricky part. In such an area making some noise seemed the last of our problems, that is till mysterious objects started flying above our heads. That and the cold damp night made us go indoors for food and circle closure. This ritual was forgotten till almost the end of the meal and that because the only other table occupied at that time, two couples of unidentified provenance turned out to be louder that the 12 manned pack. How dare they! Swing low was performed and the neighbours not only approved but honoured us with an improvised serviette sculpture.
Why is it that the worst starts always turn out into the best hasher?
