GGFM # 152

The Truth

Hares: Just Carla & Bottom

Pre-lube: Mary Ann’s

Start: W. Broadway and Chamber Street

On-In: Biddy Early’s

Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe): Crusty

Certain aspects of this great hash actually evolved out of necessity two days earlier on 5/5 at a very sucky Cinqo de Mayo run by the NYH3.  Luckily, our hares were able to get the word out early enough on this sunny Friday to announce that there would be special South of the Border festivities planned for this May 7th run that would make up for the shortcomings of a poor effort by that other (dis)organization.  As hounds arrived at the pre-lube at Mary Ann’s, we were greeted by Cree’s pre-trail, or grand jury pre-trial, attorney Alison Cockstar.  She told us that the hare and his primary legal counselor, Carla, were still out setting the trail, and that she would be helping out at the start and the tequila check on the trail.  She also whined about knee injury or something minor, obviously imagined just to get more attention and sympathy, and that’s why she was not able to run the trail.  Now Sideshow Bob had gone and gotten an appendectomy within the last week, so he had a better excuse at least for not running and wasn’t even beggin for attention at all. 

As the minutes passed, the crowd grew larger, and some of us chose to really pre-lube and drink some tequila shots as well as beer.  Isn’t that what this is all about?  More minutes passed, as well as the 7:15pm start time, and still no hares.  More minutes passed, more beer was sipped, and soon the 7:30pm true start time passed, and still no…oh wait, there was a sighting!  Yes, Cree and Carla had in fact finished the trail, and no bail money would be needed.  A very sweaty Cree held a quick chalk talk for the large handful of virgins we had that evening.  Other important points given for the trail were that “falses are generally not marked”; it was found out later that only the checks that Carla had set had false trails marked.  Also on trail, we would find tiny little jalapeño’s which we should pick up as we go.  Whoever picked up the most by the end of the trail would get the special prize for the night.  More blah blah blah from the hare, one back check, (oh please SHUT UP!), and then finally FINALLY we were sent off.

The pack headed west towards the busy network of streets in Tribeca.  We were fortunate that Cree got the one back check out of the way in the beginning of the trail about a block away at a fancy subway station.  This run happened to be held at the same time as the Tribeca film festival, so many of the fru fru/shi shi patio dining restaurants were full of patrons who proceeded to spit out their tiramisu and eau-de-vie at site of our motley crew running through their streets shouting and swearing.   Another check right away split up the pack pretty well, and soon, your’s truly (usually fleet footed and in the lead) found himself behind Mickey Mouth…the horror…the horror.  The trail turned west and up the stairway of an apartment building, which had another check in the courtyard at the top of the stairs.  Some of us may recall that Cree ran the pack through there on the August 2001 G2FMH3 trail, which of course historians will remember was the last trail in NYC to run through the World Trade Center.  As I got up the stairs to the check, Magoo seemed to be sure that the trail would go back down and across the West Side Highway and north on the paved river path.  Now, who in their right minds would ever follow Magoo was my first thought, but miracle of miracles, he was right.  A straight shot north on the path, and through some big puddles left from that mornings heavy rain, and soon another check took us back east on Canal St. or Chamber, I can’t remember which one exactly.  Another check right away at a five way intersection helped the pack re-group.  By the time we’d gotten going in the right direction, even Alice had pretty well caught up.  The darkness had begun to fall on us by this time, and luckily, it wasn’t too far until the promised tequila stop.  A few hounds nearly ran right past it, but were shouted at to come back.  Cree and Carla were on hand with a tray of tequila shots, salt, Tabasco, and some sliced up limes.  Unfortunately, they held the tequila stop outside the front of the building where Cree lives, and not in his apartment.  We all took a minute to chat and catch our breath, and then of course, it was necessary to run again to the end.  This was the point of the chicken/eagle split, so we couldn’t have been too far away from the On In.  The brave and athletic chose the eagle trail, and what a glorious eagle trail it was!  Down and around into City Hall Park and a circle jerk at the fountain.  Then out towards the South Street seaport, but turning south at Pace U and through the famous rat infested alley that Cree likes to use in most of his trails.  And finally in to Biddy Early’s. 

The bar was full of excitement and anticipation for the arrival of our group.  Well, not really, it was really for the baseball game on TV.  The rest of the patrons would have preferred that we just bugger off.  We had our usual space in the back area of the bar.  A bit of reminiscing with Ted and others was in order, since it was Pat Flanagan who found this bar and hosted her first On In with Sarah Fifield on their first ever trail, which happened to be a Full Moon hash as well.  The hares had pretzels, chips, and salsa ready for Ed.  We soon discovered in conversation that Michelle also is a food hoarder, although much more covert about it than Lunch.  What’s more, she’s also a major penny pincher just like Ed!  What a match made in heaven that would be!  Imaging THAT wedding reception!  (Doodle-oo, Doodle-oo, Doodle-oo…Wayne’s World-like fade into: a scene of the bride and groom stealing a third of the food off of each guest’s plate and putting it into a gym bag.  Of course, cash bar only…) 

But first, it was time for our fearless JM Scot and the G2FMH3 girl wonder Mean Jean to lead us in some much deserved festivities and recognition.  Our hares were booed and applauded, Cree booed and Carla applauded, for the run; Carla set only the good parts of the trail.  It was the opinion of the court that the tequila stop was a grand idea, even if we didn’t get to go up to the pad and see Cree’s skid stained boxers and pube littered bathroom.  Next up was the cattle call for the many virgin’s out with us for a night:  yet another Dave had been a retired hasher called off the barco lounger by Christine.  Shawn, Shana, and Jill all had been forced by their dominatrix Mean Jean to come, Jeff came because of James, and slow drinking Heather was not made to come by anyone, which is certainly a shame.  The next offender, and believe me offensive in more than a few ways this evening, was the male half of Stewa.  The official reason for his down down was the condition of the elastic in the inside “support lining” of his running shorts that left a small dangly bit peeking out during the run.  The other reason will be left unwritten and best forgotten for those of us present that remember what the scent was like after he came out of the men’s room.  Lisa was brought up next and given a chance to clear up the many rumors going around as to why she lost her shorts in a suspicious place.  Mr. Popularity, Magoo, was given a special down down for his display of support for the QH3 during the week, followed by Fairy Queen for running in a skirt.  Sideshow Bob was in desperate need of barley nourishment after having had an appendectomy.  And the final down down, was given to Andrew and Sarah.  Of course the manslave was made to finish his mistress’ down down, for their gear bag infraction.  Apparently, Andrew and Sarah’s bags were the heaviest of the whole group for the hare and his legal defense team to carry to the bar.  Upon closer inspection, it was found that they were both stuffed with multi-colored, scented, and flavored condoms and other unmentionable sex toys.  They had quite a weekend planned no doubt!

A few announcements about upcoming events caused a bit of a stir.  Yours truly, having a private moment in the mens room, nearly missed making the grand announcement of the upcoming first NASS run of the summer!  I just barely made it back out to the room, with my shorts barely all the way up, to relay the message.   Mean Jean felt it necessary to call foul and give me a post-ceremony down down, which I gladly shared with her, on her head, since she stood right behind me.  The ensuing beer tossing was quickly broken up by Scot, and Cree was able to award the winner of the big Jalapeno treasure hunt.  Low, very low, and behold, of the 15 total jalapeño’s hidden along the trail, I had found the most, six, and was awarded yet another beer to pound and a fifth of Cuervo (not to pound).  Good stuff!  And that was the conclusion of the officially sponsored fun for the night.

FINALLY some food came out, nice chicken and other meat quesadilla’s and the mandatory veg alternative…bon appetite.  Of course, the food ran out quick, and the hash cash wasn’t far behind.  Thankfully, supplemental was collected to keep the party going.  We did have a bunch of major party pooper’s, Mickey Mouth, Bill, and their beer hoarders, whom, you guessed it, hoarded the beer at their table. 

All in all though, a very good night.  A very good half of a trail (the half set by Carla), no incidents with the NYPD, NYFD, NYC Dept of Health, NYC Hazmat team, CDC, WHO, or the Guardian Angels, jalapeno’s, tequila, a bit of singing, and lots of good beer…at least until Mickey Mouth Gotti and her wiseguy’s began bogarting it all.