NYCH3 #1193
Date: Sunday, December 31, 2006
Start: Columbus Circle
Hares: Peter, Fiona, Fire in the Piehole, Mary
On-In: Crossroads, 83rd and Amsterdam
Scribe: Noah’s Dinghy
New Year’s Eve is a sacred day on the drunkard’s calendar. The one day people look upon a man with awe instead of pity, disgust, or morbid curiosity. (Few ever look upon drunken women with awe. Hope, maybe.) Granted, this isn’t really the case with the hash, where being able to handle a beer or four will raise nary an eyebrow. But December 31st is the sort of day you really can’t wait to end, because it means you can truly get your drink on.
But before we could get to the drinking, a trail needed to be r*n. It began at Columbus Circle, where the pack encountered a horde of young women dressed as Ugly Betty, the title character of a popular TV show. Apparently over a dozen countries have their own versions now. Perhaps all the young women were representing each country. Or perhaps they got their holidays confused. In any event, we headed in to the park to start the trail.
I don’t honestly remember much of the trail, though I do seem to recall we hit most of the familiar landmarks of Central Park. Eventually we exited back on the UWS near the Museum of Natural History. This of course prompted the hashers to wonder which familiar haunts would serve as the on-in. It soon became apparent that we were headed for Dive 75. And indeed, the trailed turned right on 75th, revealing . . . a check right in front of the damn bar. Someone did apparently go in, as the steps were marked false. Pack marks urged us further westward.
Then the marks directed us to r*n uptown on Amsterdam. Ah-hah! Bourbon Street was next on the list of possibilities, and is decorated in a festive manner, could it be we were returning there? The hares tried a bit of fakery, veering the trail west a block, then proceeding right back onto Amsterdam, but no one was fooled. And sure enough, at the bar, we saw . . . another goddamned check.
Continuing northward, the pack eventually arrived at the on-in, Crossroads, and all of us except Joe Pennsylvania headed in (more on that later). The trail completed, we got started on the whole drink the year away part of the hash. Once your trusty scribe had a few beers in him, skipping the water, Doggie Style (who had not r*n and apparently felt she had somewhere better to be) asked if I’d be willing to handle the write-up so she could go home and change. Hmm, perhaps this is why I don’t remember the trail.
Down-downs were then handed out: The hares, for a mercifully brief if somewhat mocking trail. Fiona took a double as she was hopping on a plane for England that night. Our visitors, Dead End from Toronto (Tunisia? Togo? The napkin reveals nothing), and Magoo, who had relocated to Singapore. A whole passel of virgins: Jim, Dustin, Kristen (Wet Connection’s niece), Jenny, and Stephanie (a friend of Lauren’s). Kristen and Stephanie stayed up and were joined by Wet Connection and Lauren respectively: apparently the word had gone out to only bring virgins who are as tall as you. Lauren and Stephanie easily finished their down-downs ahead of their taller compatriots, prompting Fire in the Piehole to call out “Beaten by a dwarf!” Chris was made to drink as punishment for exclaiming, after he saw Ed Lunch had arrived before he, “You got a head start!” This was untrue: apparently Chris does not believe the elder hasher are all that fast. Lunch and Dave Hardy drank for their birthdays, for which they were appropriately serenaded. Finally, Joe Pennsylvania, who had at last come in from the cold, was given a down-down when it was discovered that he had been trying to beat his personal record for most miles r*n in a year. The trail had not been long enough, and so he did an extra mile. And for that, you drink an extra beer.
After the circle, we all returned to drinking before heading home to change, because there was much drinking left to do.
On-out.