I don’t know where the hell Oaksfield is, but I do know where the College of the Bahamas is, thank goodness, or I would have missed three weeks in a row. Speaking of three weeks in a row, this hash marked the third consecutive time that the On-On was a City Market parking lot. Far be it from me to propose significant policy changes (my secret dream, truthfully), but I suddenly see visions of hashers with City Market signs on the back of their hash shirts. Down with our chicken-peddling overlords! Up with the market of the people! I can see the tagline now: “City Market: Where drunk hashers all over the Bahamas go when they need to sop up the beer in their stomachs.” (This is being written a month after the fact, while we patiently await our sponsorship money).
The torch and pitchfork have been put away and the bandana is no longer masking
my facial features. What was I doing here? Is that tear gas I smell? Oh
right, another hash write-up. Hares? John Paul & Stephanie. Upon arriving at
the City Market (Great low prices, everyday!) parking lot, we were each handed
potatoes that had been painted either gold, black or some other color that I do
not recall; mine was the ever-successful gold. Once that was all straightened
out, the trail started off northward and than quickly made a few twists and
turns, coupled with a back-check and a box, before a good half of us made a
wrong turn (not our fault) and ended-up running the trail backwards. It was
kind of like this, with the arrows pointing the two directions the check-in sent
us, the continuous blue line acting as the general direction of the trail (hard
to approximate one of them since I was on the other, and the red lightening bolt
(nice!) marking where our two groups encountered each other:
Make sense? Whatever, I just enjoy using the tools of MacOffice 2008 (that would have taken me about 3 hours with the old MacOffice 2000).
Hash reunited, we made some more turns, followed another back-check or two and found ourselves once again in the thick of some neighborhood. As with any portion of any run inside of any neighborhood, I find myself unable/loathe to even attempt describing it, because it’s pointless, really. Typically I have no idea where we are and while entertaining to run, it’s no good to attempt recalling each check-in, each back-check, each time Frank misses a falsie, each time Dave lies about a back-check. So, it’s not fun to try writing nor is it fun to try reading the uninspired writing. So let’s just move on for now…
We came out of the neighborhood on Thompson to find a box next to a hotdog vendor who had no interest at all in buying our potatoes off of us. The trail picked up to the east and we crossed over the running track at COB so that we were on same unpaved road behind the track where the trail continued northeast until we found a box populated by walkers. Once we all arrived, our Hares led us to a very large puddle/small lake with a small homemade boat floating in the middle. I should remind you all now that this was the Cinco De Mayo run and to commemorate the holiday, we were to use our potatoes and rocks to sink the French “ship” in the water. We are hashers, not throwers, and it took us about 5 minutes and four thousand rocks to mortally wound this vessel. I don’t recall who finally delivered the killing blow (Marco?), but it was someone on the Golden Potato team, which meant that the Team Golden Potato won. Once the battle came to a close, we caught the trail and quickly found the On-In sign. We hauled ass back to the City Market (great low prices, everyday!) and found that the reward for winning the Cinco De Mayo “Sinko the Boato” competition was a package of peanut M&Ms for everyone. But the generosity of our Hares was overwhelming and they delivered candy to all hashers, winners and losers. Such kindness, quite touching really. Good hash, much fun, thanks John Paul & Stephanie!