Royal Milan & Bordighera H³ - Finale Ligure Weekend '97

From:    Cums In Spurts <Mike.Bowers@AVIANO.AF.MIL>
Date:    Tue 28 Oct 1997 14:41:35 +0100
Subject: Finale Ligure Trip Report - By CIS

Finale Ligure, Ghost on the Coast Hash
Sponsored by:  The Royal Milan and Bordighera H3
Trip Report by:  Cums In Spurts

I can't believe it.  I've been in Italy for almost 3 months and I'm finally
getting away to a hash, and not just any old hash at that.  I'm heading to the
east coast of Italy to a place they call the Italian Riviera.  Now as if the
thrill of going there wasn't enough, shit, I've hit the mother load.  Not only
will I be in one of the prettiest parts of Italy, but I'll also be hashing with
the world's 2nd oldest hash; the Royal Milan and Bordighera H3.

Before I get to the hash, let me mention that the 7 hour train ride over was
beautiful.  The Italian country side was spectacular.  Also, let me mention
that you might want to go to the crapper before you get to the train station.
You see, in Italy, the equivalent of an American toilet is a porcelain hole in
the floor.  You don't sit, you squat.   OK, so now, on with my story.

I had sent Tone Deaf a last minute email begging and pleading for him to pick
me up at the train station, but was unsure if he'd gotten it.  When I arrived
in Finale Ligure, I could see no hashers, but could faintly smell the aroma of
beer.    I tried to ask a taxi driver for some info but that was useless as he
didn't understand a word I was saying.  I've been trying to increase my Italian
vocabulary and introduce a little American culture into the Italian language,
but so far I've gotten nothing but stares.  Go figure, you'd think they'd
understand "Come` sta d`Mattina, Y'all"

After coming to the conclusion that the taxi driver just didn't know proper
(hillbilly) Italian, I resided to try and find my own way to the hash, when out
of the corner of my eye I could feel the vibes of another hasher.  I looked to
my right and there was a young lass looking as lost as I.  Come to find out she
was an American, and looking for the hash also.  After realizing she had the
most up to date hash info, I decided to hang close to her, and a good thing I
did.  She had this little electronic gadget in her purse and even used in on
the taxi ride over.  Wow, I was impressed.  Great show, Cyber Sex.    (When I
asked her how she got her name, she said reluctantly, that it had to do with
the way she met her boyfriend, via the Internet.  Wow, I know someone else that
met the love of his life like that also.)

As we arrived to the hash, there were several hashers doing what hashers do
best.  Likk'mm, Lonely Brain Cell, White Fang, Paint job, Hang up, Silent
Scream, and eventually Tone Deaf showed up.  Seems he was at the train station
waiting on a hasher that had begged him to pick him up.

With only a couple of hours before time for the hash, Tone Deaf gave a few of
us a ride up the mountain to our hotel.  A quick change and it was a 2K run
back down to the start.  What the hell, it's Friday, night .how long could the
hash be?  Did I mention that there were fricking mountains all over the place?
Did I mention that I have a serious dislike for hills?  Did I mention that
Biloxi is Flat?

The hash was to start at 1930 hrs, but being that this is a hash, it didn't
start till well after that.  And wouldn't you know it, we headed straight up
the mountain.  In and out of small streets.  ? mile check backs up the steepest
grades the hares could find.   A romp through the city that probably had the
locals wishing it was tourist season again, and not some wild freak show.  The
hash was superb, probably the longest, hilliest, for a first night hash.  The
on-in was back at the Car Park where we started where a great time was had.
Down-downs went fast with numerous violations being honored.  Just when we were
ready to sing "Swing Low", someone yelled out, "What about the guy with the new
shoes?"

Now, I've got many hashes under my belt and know better than to even think of
wearing new shoes to a hash, however, I didn't think when I wore them to town
that that would be considered a hash violation, but being the dedicated hasher
that I am, I took my down-down out of my old shoes.  It could have been worse,
I seen the crap some of the violators had to drink out of and believe you me,
my shoes were the better of the choices.  From stinky old shoes to a well
prepared Arianna's for dinner.  This had to be one of the better meals I'd
eaten.  Great job.  My only complaint was the 2K walk straight up the mountain
to get to my bed.  Did I mention that I really hate mountains?

Saturday was another beautiful day.  The religious advisor should have been
honored for the great job of keeping the skies blue.  It made the walk back
down the mountain much nicer.  After paying for the weekend, it was on to the
beach where the Hash O`Limp-pricks were to start.  Mis-management had already
decided on the teams and that was great as it got some wankers involved that
might not have done so otherwise.  The bad part is that if some of the people
on your team didn't show up, then you were shit out of luck.   The one
statement that got me was when one of my own team mates took a look at us and
said "we're going to get creamed." Or something like that.  What's wrong, Bog
Hog, didn't you have any confidence?  OK, so we didn't win, but hey, we were a
long way from last. (I think)

Today's hash starts at Rosita's.  Shit.  That's back up at the top of the
mountain.  We're a the beach.  Hmmmmm.  I think the mis-management team did
this on purpose.  Wear us out and we can't raise too much hell.  As I make it
back up to the top, I thought, "Well, one good thing; we're already at (or
near) the top of this mountain, we're bound to be going down; right?" Wrong!
Those damn hares had us on some of the best trails I've seen in a while.  Great
trails, however, there were a bit dry.

The On-In was back at Rosita's where down-downs soon began.  Did anyone other
than "No Mercy Master" do a down-down?  There was one special Down-Down where
representatives from each hash came into the circle.  I was proud to represent
my mother hash, Biloxi.  There were numerous countries represented and many
hashes from within each.  One of the highlights of the day had to be the visit
by the POPE.  To have his blessings made this whole trip worth wild.

After down-downs I managed to retrieve my bottle of Bacardi, to replace the
several mini bottles of spiced rum that I'd finished off during the day.  I'd
like to thank the harriers that help me finish off that bottle.  If not for
them, I'd have been more wasted that I was.  Anyway, back to the dinner.
Before the food was served, socializing (is that a good word to use for this
part of the world?) was done and numerous songs let out.  The locals had some
good songs but they were all pretty much tame and repetitive, so a few of us
got together and retrieved some great songs from the past.  Like the S&M man,
The Wild West Show, and of course, my favorite, Ya Ho.

It was just a short while later when this old harriette, or at least I think
she was a she, hell, it was a costume event, she could have been a transvestite
for all I know, but anyway?..  This person came around handing out programs for
this weekend's events and she/he/it looked at me and snapped, "You need to
watch your language, we don't talk like that around here."   WHAT?    For those
of you wanks that know me, you know that I very seldom curse or use vulgar
language in normal conversations, however, when it comes to hash songs, (or
hash reports) I'm game.  It seems that the Wild West Show and Ya Ho were too
vulgar for this un-hash like person.  Shit, if it offended her, she could have
tuned us out.  As for the rest of the crowd, if I recall correctly, I was
requested to lead the group in a song before retiring for the evening, so my
table gladly did an encore of "Ya Ho".  I hope the fricking b*tch got her ears
full as the entire room of 100 plus hashers joined in.  HA!!!   (BTW:  For
those of you that requested the words; send me your email address and I'll get
them out to you.)

Oh crap, I can't finish off the evening without telling you about the
dinner.  It started with some seafood platter that included shrimp, a type of
crab salad (that was superb) and what I was told was a spinach something or
other (quite tasty).  The next course had what appeared to be baby octopuses.
This was a first.  I was told they were quite tasty so I take this little
creature into my hands and ? and?..with a single bite I made Lorena Bobbit
happy.  I bit the little suckers head off.    Very chewy.  Bugger Me, who was
sitting next to me  told me that the legs were the best, so I turned the
doomed little decapitated creature over and proceeded to dismember it.  Good
thing I was drinking triples.  There were several other courses, but in my
inebriated state, I don't recall what they were.  What a hash weekend.  The
hash gods were looking down on us, as not only was it beautiful, clear
weather, but we also got to set our clocks back an hour to allow for more
drinking.

The remainder of the evening was spent singing and drinking and amazing the
Europeans with our knowledge of American sitcom theme songs.  The night ended
abruptly when Rosita said to leave so that she could get set up for breakfast.
(Or so I'm told, that's what she said.  She can't speak a lick of Inglese.) We
moved outside and continued singing and drinking until it was down to just a
handful.  Myself, Likk'mm, Lonely Brain Cell, and this one wanker that I can't
recall his name, but the mascara was definitely a plus.  As the bodies were
dwindling, the alcohol was gone, the songs (as was my voice) were finished, it
was time for bed.  Good thing I live here and not down the hill or that would
have been a real adventure.

Sunday:  Oh my aching head.  Do we have a hash today?   Shit.  OK, I've laid
here long enough, let me crawl to the closet, that was transformed into a
bathroom, and try and bring some life into this tired, aching, old, body.
After an European breakfast, it was down the mountain to the car park for yet
another hash.  It was suppose to start at 1100 and be a live hare, so when we
seen the hare laying trail at 1030, I knew something was wrong.

As we arrived to the car park, the crowd of hung over hashers were eagerly
awaiting the start of the hash (yea right.)  And how does a hasher deal with a
hang over?  He drinks more.  They were passing around bottles of champagne and
I even seen some Gin and To-Kill-Ya going around.  Ouch? just what I need more
liquor.  NOT!  But being the good little (did I say little?) hasher that I am,
I indulged myself.  Soon after I heard someone yell that it was time to hit the
trails.

You'll never guess which way the trail went.  That's Right.  It went right back
up that fricking mountain.  Damn it.  Haven't they got the message yet.  I HATE
HILLS!  I'm starting to get the feeling that this group of wankers is more of a
running group that drinks, verses a drinking club that runs.  Shit, what ever
happened to the Sunday morning hang-over hash, where all you had to do was make
it out of bed to have completed your requirement for another beer.  These guys
are way too serious.  But, like I said, I'm a good little hasher, so I started
back up that hill again.

The hares were mighty generous this day, as the hills, steep grades, and steps,
were not as plentiful as in the previous two days.  We eventually made it down
to sea level where we invaded the community again, yelling and entertaining
them as we made our way down to the beach and beach walk.  The On-In was back
at the car park and I was not one to complain that this hash was just under an
hour in length.  Actually, it was almost an hour too long.

The On-In proceeded with songs, down-downs and many violators being honored.
It's now time to make my way back up the damn mountain (for the last time) to
clean up and head to the train station.  The end to a great weekend.  My first,
second and third hash since I've been here.  Well worth the money, time, and
pain; and to think?.  I didn't have to do a down down for being a back slider.
Hummmm.  My many thanks to all the people of the Royal Milan and Bordighera
Hash House Harriers, and to all the other hashers that came in and made this a
superb weekend.  I hope to hash with you all again (except for the whining
bitch that didn't like my songs.).  : )   Also, thanks to Likk'mm and Lonely
Brain Cell for the company on the train up to Milan.

On-On

Cums In Spurts


CumInSpurt@aol.com  (Home, but avail until Dec)
mike.bowers@aviano.af.mil (Italy)