Start: 36th St and 4th Ave
On-in: Mary's Bar
Hare: Cheeky Bastard
Scribe: Eager for Beaver
Your scribe is known for cumming late, and tonight was no exception. Not Smashmouth-10-minutes-late-and-where-are-the-damn-hares-to-take-my-backpack-storm-out-of-the-on-in late, but incredibly-late-even-for-Eager late. I figured that I'd put on my professional-grade hashing gear, toss some dry stuff into a backpack, and hoof it solo to the on-in and follow any trail I encountered on the way. (Luckily those apple-shandie drinking racists the South Brooklyn Running Club did not set a competing trail this night.) Since this was a Cheeky trail, I expected some inappropriately giant-sized arrows followed a mile or two of no marks at all. I was surprised, however, to somehow start an hour late but still arrive ahead of the rest of the pack.
Here's a note to you visitors about the DFLs and hashing in NY. It is no secret that I'm frequently late to the start, so much so that hashers are more surprised to see me on trail without a backpack than with. It may be true that, while few of us have sex lives outside the hash, we do have occasional obligations in the civilian world that make us late. A few weeks ago, when I finally arrived at the Beer'd and Must-hash on-in (BH#593), a visitor started hopping around and celebrating that he was no longer the DFL, and that whatever awful punishment his hash does to DFLs would now be done to me. This prospect alone makes me glad to not hash outside NYC.
So I ran to the start. I ran past Moonshine, which is closed, and a big car dealer, which was closed, and then along barren, post-apocolyptic Third Avenue, where even the "DVD shops" were shut. Amidst this desolation, I was happy to finally encounter trail on 27th Street. Given that this was relatively close I was to the start, I was concerned that I might still have a lot of trail ahead of me. Sure enough, the trail was convoluted and technical, and, unfortunately for me, provided a lot of mileage in a very small area. In fact, the trail seemed to hit every boring, up hill long block, yet I don't recall ever encountering a downhill.
The trail eventually terminated at a check on 5th Ave. To the left, I spied a faint packmark. I looked right and, a couple of blocks away, saw Cheeky pacing on the corner. My first thought was that the pack is always wrong and beer is always right, so I took a right. Imagine my surprise when Cheek and an already drunk Technically Foul informed me of my FRB status. When I enquired as to the rest of the pack, Cheeky covered his face with his hands and replied, "Not good: the pack's still out there. When Barnacle told me to set 3 marks on each block, I thought he said 1 mark on every 3 blocks." I proceeded on-in to the bar and started getting my $20 worth.
I did manage to obtain the hare's map of the trail. It explains a lot:
Our JM managed to slur her way through the following down downs:
* The hare, for a shitty trail.
* Virgin Renee, for making herself cum.
* Trader Blows and Just Kyle for doing something to the virgin's mom. (The JMs notes actually say: "Mom comes the virgin". WTF?!)
* The hare again, because the trail was scary.
* FRBs: Dog Face, Just Will, Just Robbie and yours truly.
* Smashmouth, for making a false technology on trail accusation about a hasher using a "PDA". (Smashmouth intended to give this offense in the 90s.)
* Doggie Erectus for not knowing when to get off the trail.
Eager for Beaver