GGFM # 153

The Truth


Official Organ of the Greater Gotham Full Moon

Hash House Harriers

G2FMH3 Hash # 153 – Friday, June 4, 2004

Hares: Doug & Kyle

Start: Central Park South & 6th Avenue

On-In: Back Page (3rd Ave & 83rd St.)

Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe): Sarah Down Under

In a dimly lit cavernous basement, incongruously located on the Upper East Side, a dark-haired man with glittering black eyes prowled mercilessly with an increasing air of agitation.  “Will you?  Will you? Please?” was his mantra.  Again, and again, he was refused.  “Who can it be?  Who?” he muttered next to me, his internal radar searching the shadowy crowd for a hit.  The air surrounding him was thick with desperation.  Taking a slow sip of my beer, and catching his eye, I murmured, “I’ll do it.  I miss the action.”


And so, prompted by occasional nostalgia for my former tenure as NYCH3 scribe, I willingly gave myself over to Magoo’s plea to write up the G2FMH3’s hash on Friday, the fourth of June, 2004… Would there be regrets, recriminations, tears?  Stay with me.


At 6:45pm (some hours before accepting Magoo’s proposition, you understand), my trusty Manslave and I strolled through Central Park to the start.  Innocent and young, we knew nothing of the trails ahead.  (“Young”?  “Innocent”? Oh hush.  Shut the f*ck up! Poetic license calls for untruths.) Well, actually, we DID know something of the trails.  In the cool of the evening, we were fortunate enough to happen upon several trail markings.  It was then I began my descent into moral turpitude (AKA “Platinum Level Hash Ethics”.)

 “Instant shortcut!” I proclaimed. 

“Okay. I’m fine with that.  I’m doing the trail,” Manslave replied.

 And this is how it started – a small rift in approaches that led to my acceptance of a dubious character’s proposition in a dank bar…


The crowd assembled randomly at the start.  There was not the comfort of a hash start mark, so the group gathered together as only those without other important social events to attend on a Friday can.  Wet Willy and Mickey Mouth seemed to form the nucleus of this rag-tag band.  So strong was the attraction that a now nearly extinct hasher, Wet and Sticky, was drawn to it, despite thinking the start was a block away. Even Ed Lunch made it.  Longfellow, too, felt the inexplicable pull of a full moon jaunt in Central Park and arrived near-fashionably late. The Newest Andrew, “Andy” was there.  Hell, even Bahamonde was on time.  Many new, and semi-new faces also gathered around.  Lisa brought a posse of women.  Delightfully and inexplicably female hashers equaled, if not outnumbered, the males.   Broad grins spread across men’s faces and good cheer was infectious.


Then, a whiff of chalk hit the air.  Two hares approached from the East – Kyle and Doug.  “Virgins and Visitors over here!” barked Kyle, belatedly etching a huge H3 start symbol on the road and ordering the five over.  Doug laughed loud and long into the closing light.


There was something unnerving about Kyle’s oratory.  The signs he’d made were new.  The regulars drew close as Doug’s wicked grin underscored the impact of Kyle’s proclamation:  “Someone has been here before us!  Beware the double-headed arrows, my friends, for they are not of us!  They are of the Wednesday night’s NYCH3’s Baldwin Birthday Bash Hash!  Follow not the faded ruins of a previous trail, but follow the ONE-HEADED, true path to the On-In!  Oh, some of you ran that trail, didn’t you?  Show yourselves!”

A few hands were raised.  Feet shuffled. Someone cried, “Is the On-In as likeable…or the same?”  Doug snickered again. A few took this as a “definite shortcut” sign. Meanwhile, the pack was brooding.  Internally debating.  Flour as a trail marker had made a comeback, and been used both on Wednesday’s trail and this one.  How were we to distinguish?  Then the musings were shattered:


“If you liked it, you’ll like this MORE!” Kyle countered.  “Bags over there!  First mark  — that way!”


Following his imperative, the pack ran.  I veered off, north, up past the roundabout heading for Poet’s Walk, wherein the path to trail ruin lay.  Wet ‘N Sticky, feigning confusion, followed.  Up near a check near the Boat Pond, he’d been drawn into the turgid depths of depravity for which he was infamous (read: Laying down fake hare marks, then skipping the on-in and subsequent punishment)

“I NEED to put down a false check, SOMETHING!” he begged

“I’m doing the write up.  I rat on people.  Take your chances, big boy”, I replied.


Ahhh, cheating, subversion, revenge.  We were bound to come undone.  As we did.  Our corrupt plans bit us harder in the ass as around Bethesda Fountain, the pack caught up and found true trail.  We lamely followed.  Once the trail led into something I believe was the Ramble, all hell broke loose.  Manslave suddenly appeared way up ahead of me, despite refusing to short cut.  Leo bounded past.  Shadowy couples of non-hashers slyly wished us evil for shattering their evening peace with loud barks of “ON-ON!”  And then we emerged on the East Side.  Andrea complained of eating bugs inadvertently as she ran, and I whined about being eaten by them.  At least she was ahead in protein intake…


Up then to the Reservoir, and out near 96th.  The Fuzzy Month-Ago Memory Imagi-Bastard  assures me we went east bordering the Guggenheim, along 89th, then south to Lex and Dreaded 86th Crowds.  It seemed implausible then, but totally plausible now, given that Sticky’s prediction of The Back Page as the On-In proved correct. 


And there we were.  Back again.  In a dank basement on the Upper East Side.  Our dark haven drew some enigmatic hash civilians – Yello Smello & Sideshow Bob.  Burke “Yank It”, Sweet Marie.  Jesse and “Pearl Necklace” – By day, seemingly upstanding citizens.  By night…ask me, pay me, I’ll spill for $$$.


And there we still were.  Then Grand Joint Master Choriki showed, with a gorgeous new ‘do and wisdom for Kyle, the stand-in-JM-in-the-absence-of-Mean-Jean-AND-hare. 


Here’s where down-downs are hastened to get to the food.  There were:


  1. The Hares.  For the trail.  Just because.  And just because it almost duplicated the trail 2 days before.
  2. The Hares.  For no start mark.  No matter that it was drawn in ipso facto, and lovely.  They deserved it. 
  3. Lon?  Jon?  There was someone with shiny new Asics who was a relative newbie, and drank like a champion out of shoes so lovely it made me cringe in sympathy
  4. Norma was a G2FMH3 virgin, as was Leo.  They’d both hashed before, but never under the light of the Fool Moon. Each insisted that they’d made each other come.  (Mutual happiness ensued)
  5. Visitors Alistair (via English Andy), Jeannie (a San Diego hasher), transplant Sticky Pages, and Oral Call from San Fran.  Yes.  They drank.  Deeply and of evil Bud.
  6. Andrea was summonsed for not only  swallowing on trail, but also for deciding some random non-hashing male was so inspiring that she had to ditch trail and follow him.
  7. Mastercard was late to the start, as usual, yet was called up for her running attire that JM Danny referred to as a “blouse”.  “No!  THAT’S a BLOUSE!” she immediately shot back, gesticulating toward Danny’s festive Hawaiian-print shirt.
  8. Also called up for fashion offenses was Baboon Ass, who chose to hash in hot pink micro-shorts and matching top.
  9. Mickey Mouth was next.  Immediately upon hitting the on-in, she phoned her mother, presumably to assure her that she was at Friday mass, hair neatly tied in a bow and fingernails scrubbed.
  10. Lastly, brothers Wyeth and Bottom received their punishment.  Wyeth, certain that the on-in was the very same establishment as Wednesday’s, began running south to the Raccoon Lodge.  Of course, he was aided by his older older sibling, who’d cunningly placed a pack mark heading in that direction immediately in front of the true on-in.  “Yeah!  I f*cked up my brother!” Bottom proudly announced.


And the festivities went long on into the night.  Did I awaken the next morning with a brain full of beer and a head full of regret for accepting Magoo’s proposition?  You betcha.  But, then again, there’s nothing like sharing the pain with all you suckers who were forced to endure this write-up!  On-out!