Cafe Mistral
September 17, 2007
This past Monday, the Hogtown hashers displayed their altruistic side by organizing a benefit for the Cafe Mistral at stately Queen and Parliament. It seems some local rounder had busted out their front window over the weekend and they couldn't afford to have it replaced. Even visitors Hot Pants from Mauritius, Priscilla from Auckland, Wet Spot from Calgary and Just Kate from Toronto contributed to the fund.
Cafe Mistral is not only a great Hungarian restaurant but also a wildlife sanctuary. An awed Wet 'n Dirty was mesmerized by the telescopic action of Tommy the Turtle's neck. "Where can I find a man like that", she mumbled.
After introductions from Ra and instructions from the hare Humpday, the pack loped past the dinner time queue at the Good Shepherd Mission and on through Virgin Place. Phone Sex showing off her Eastern Bloc military training impressed all by running with a full pack.
Arriving at the Distillery District, Shadow sprinted west. Unfortunately the trail went south. We never saw him again.
Later on trail, pleasantries were exchanged with the homeless people settling in for the night along the bank of the scenic Don River. At this point Half Wit and New Shoes were seen speeding west across Queen. Unfortunately the trail went north. We never saw them again.
In Regent Park, residents were running for their lives. "You scared us", one yelled at the pack. "We thought you were undercover cops!" Kinda ironic, huh?
Running past "Fat Chicks Corner" Wet 'n Dirty led the troops into cozy Pete's Cajun Creole Pizza while one of the corner's larger lasses harangued Humpday and Wet Spot for being slackers.
With the sound of veal being pounded in the kitchen (or was it another fight on the corner?), down down's got underway. Punishments were handed out to visitors, back sliders and to the aptly named Half Wit for following New Shoez on trail.
As part of the fund raising effort, Ra organized a travel agents vs. teachers quiz. In this contest the teachers, represented by Half Wit and Dead End, had to locate Mauritius while the travel agents, represented by Wet Spot and Just Kate, had to name the author of Winnie the Pooh. It was no contest. I've got an idea. Maybe from now on we should have travel agents educate our kids.
While Humpday sang the praises of the turtles head soup, a pallid COD finished off his Mistral Special; veal slathered in cream cheese, breaded and deep fried. It was a fine choice for his first solid meal since Puerto Vallarta.
As the night dragged on, stragglers Eager Beaver and Half Wit compared notes on boys past and present while the over refreshed Humpday and Priscilla gaily sang show tunes.
... and no one noticed the sacred drinking vessel abandoned on the floor. Oh the shame. I guess the only thing more shameful would be barfing on the Eglinton 34 bus.