NYCH3 # 1066

NYCH3 #1066, August 25, 2004

HARES: Walkabout and Magoo

START: Dyckman Street & Broadway

On In: El Tubbys in the foothills of Inwood Park

Scribe: Mean Jean

Ted. Inwood Park. The waning light of a late summer Wednesday. I should have known.


Like the caged birds and the intrigued kitten pawing between the bars so poetically placed at the On In, I was at the mercy of something greater, stronger, more powerful than myself—a hare. To complete the Animal Farm metaphor, there was also a chicken (yes, you read correctly, a chicken) walking around at the On In, possibly symbolizing me on trail as well. But I get ahead of myself.


After laughing at Doug on the phone for saying he was leaving at 6PM (an hour and 15 minutes?!?!?!) on a straight shot on the A from W.4th up to Inwood, I gave myself a paltry 45 minutes to make three subway connections from the east side. And yes, I was late! But in good company, as a small bunch of us (Crazy American Dave, Rudy, Wet Connection, and a couple of virgins) headed off after Ted assured us we were only 2 minutes behind the pack and the trail was very short. That little voice in my head reminded me to ask for a shortcut but that cavalier idiot exterior won out and off we went up into Fort Tryon Park.


The good news about starting late is that the checks are normally solved and indeed when we approached the first speed check, our way was marked. Unfortunately, as we discovered an “F” half way up the hill, it was marked incorrectly. Now, Rudy, Dave, WC, and I are not exactly known for our checking but when the virgins set off back to the speed check, we at least convinced them to follow us as we continued our way up in the other direction to find trail, which we eventually did. The rest of the checks were smooth sailing but WC and I hadn’t seen each other in awhile and had much catching up to do (oh, and Dave was annoying us and the virgins were speed demons) so we dawdled and hung back. Very pretty view at the top of Fort Tryon park…deep breath, ooohs and aaahs. (Could almost see the pack arriving at the on in from up there.) But we had miles to go before we sleep. So off we went into the Heart of Darkness: “The horror. The horror.” (I don’t know; there is something about trees and woods and rivers and dead girls being discovered in parks that bring out the literati in me.)


Back down the hill about 50 yards from where we entered (hmmm, that would have been a good shortcut) and across the street and up the hill into Inwood Park. Over the river and through the woods… Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! I’m sure it was a beautiful trail and I hope everyone else saw it…WC and I pretty much nervously giggled our way through it. When we briefly exited the Inwood Dark and caught site of the Henry Hudson Bridge looming, we said to each other: “Over it or under it; neither option appealing!” But back in the Dark we went, all 12 feet 2 inches of us. All was well until Dave Too Long snuck upon us with little cat feet and let out a loud “boo” sending WC about 3 feet out of her skin (that’s 9 feet 2 inches if you’re keeping track). He grudgingly agreed to stay with us but took off like a shot when the first street light came into view—he got his comeuppance though as he blew past the on in!


And the On In was set spectacularly at the river’s edge directly across from the Palisades where only days before Devo had hashers running up and down for the lives at the NASS. I was keeping my distance from Ted and trying to achieve a peaceful, hasherly state-of-mind but I clearly needed to vent my anger because when Got Wood? asked me a simple question, she received a lion’s roar in response. Hmmm. That felt better. Where’s the beer?


The invitation said, wear white. And most people gave a good attempt despite white shorts being few and far between. The bride-to-be, Shana, looked lovely in a chiffon number and Nikes. And her pal Maria was awfully cute in a cheerleader-style white skirt. Hubby-to-be Dan was also looking dapper; hell, I was just happy he wasn’t setting trail! Burke graced us with a hash appearance between jaunts to the British Isles for Spurs matches. Speaking of “gracing” (please note irony), DB2 was in attendance adding his own brand of dour to the proceedings. Dave Too Long kept up his anti-chivalric (or is it pro-feminist) leanings as main squeeze Lisa was pawed over at the bar by the resident drunk, oily fat man. WC and Burke purred over the aforementioned kitten while the usual suspects purred over Mastercard and new junior miss rival, Lauren. Bottom invited two friends but neglected to tell them how much we love watching people drink out of new shoes. HUA was powerchatting on his cellphone for much of the evening while Karen the Blonder was recruiting for all-girl poker night. Scottish Andrew was sporting a fascist NSA baseball cap (which was later cap-napped) while Scottish Lesley was lording over us her day off the next day as she glugged another beer.


The circle was called and I found myself standing next to DB2, making it difficult to hear over all the “Why, in my day…” ramblings. But I’ll reconstruct the down downs as best I can:


  • Hare Ted Walkabout Pitt on his own, co-hare Magoo having been banned from the circle
  • Visitors and Virgins: sorry didn’t get your names
  • Patrick Too Drunk and Ookie Cookie; and the story goes, Patrick Too Drunk fell down and went boom at 2 in the morning (hmmm? I wonder if alcohol was involved). He calls up Ookie Cookie, MD and says, My ass is bleeding. I have no insurance. Can you stitch me up?  Ookie Cookie agrees and escorts Patrick to her hospital for stitches thus earning Ookie Cookie her place as On Call doc for the HOPSers and Patrick a hash name: Booty Call
  • Bottom’s two virgins to drink out of sparkly new shoes
  • Unremembered Down Down Number 1
  • Unremembered Down Down Number 2
  • AOTW to Ted Pitt for setting a beautiful trail that no one could see in the dark in a park where a co ed recently turned up dead


A cornucopia of fried food arrived: French fries, chicken wings, chicken fingers… hey, wait a minute, I haven’t seen the bar’s chicken walking around in a while?


On out.

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