NYCH3 # 1068

NYCH3 #1068, September 8, 2004

HARES: Screaming O and Stephen Whoremaster

On In: Last Exit, Atlantic Ave, Brookie

Scribe: Mean Jean

Magic 8 Ball, will we r*n to Brooklyn?

It is decidedly so.

 

We must begin the Monday before the Wednesday hash. In my roles as On Sec, Wise and Revered Veteran Hasher, and Indoctrinator of Young Virgin Boy Hares (read cradle-robber-wannabe), I tend to get a lot of email looking for advice. And indeed on Monday, I had correspondence from Screaming Orgasm, that week’s hare, asking about beer prices and hashcash budgeting and oh, by the way, we’re going to Brookyn, Shhhhhhhh! (She obviously doesn’t get my receding hareline email which had gone out moments earlier speculating that the hash would end in Brookie; hardly a Nostrodamus moment given that co-hare Stephen Whoremaster practically bursts into flames if he sets foot outside the borough!) So when our JM Got Wood? sent an email on Wednesday saying she was stuck at work and did I know where the On In was… I naturally replied it was in Brooklyn. Flash a few minutes later when the sad call came in from Hare Rachel who’d just set the first half of the trail in the rain and that “the marks weren’t sticking and I think I’m just going to stop and have the pack run straight to Reade Street Pub.” Okay, I call Got Wood?; “it is Reade Street now.”  Flash forward to the start; rain has stopped; Rachel out finishing setting trail. Wet Connection hanging back: “I’m tired tonight; I’m just going to run straight to the Brooklyn Bridge.” My warning, “actually it’s going to Reade Street now.” Her, thinking I’m just messing with her; me, convincing her otherwise.

 

Magic 8 Ball, should I keep my nose out of these things from now on?

It is certain.

 

Pack is sent north on Broadway and I hang back at Stephen’s behest to help him load up the cab: “I’ll give you a short cut.” Never one to turn down a good short cut, I oblige. “Go straight to the Brooklyn Bridge.”  Uh huh. So the JM will be sitting at Reade Street and my tired pal will be running an extra mile and a half.

 

Magic 8 Ball, will I be getting AOTW?

You may rely on it.

 

So I head over the bridge, passing (and scaring the crap out of) walker Smashmouth. As I approached the stairway at the end of the bridge, I have the stark realization that I am probably going to have to, gulp, check! But like a bolt of lightning from above, HUA and Speedy Gary arrive in the nick of time. HUA to the north, Gary to the south, and I am left to direct traffic as the rest of the pack arrives. Dave Too Long arrives and heads east. More arrive and spread out. Bruce and Cree and Fast American Dave and Scottish Andrew (sporting luggage) and Jonathan the Tall. Minutes passed. No answers.

 

Magic 8 Ball, are we condemned to live our lives under the Brooklyn Bridge?

Cannot predict now.

 

But the bridge…

Ask again later.

 

But…

I said ask again later, you moron.

 

The trail at this point turned “Waiting for Godot” on us as nothing seemed to be happening and we seemed to have no purpose in life except for Waiting for OnOn, until a faint voice from under the bridge shouted those longed-for words. Did walker Smashmouth solve the check in the end? And so it was: west and south we went, winding our way through the pineapples and oranges and cranberries of Brooklyn Heights until we arrived at Atlantic and the On In at Last Exit.

 

It was a steamy, soggy night and the malingering outside the bar went on a bit longer than usual. HUA was hyping a trip to the DC Red Dress R*n. Ookie Cookie was excited about her first r*n back since ankle problems although she mentioned Jonathan the Tall talking to her during the uphill part of the Brooklyn Bridge which was a bit Everest-like for her first r*n in three months. “Yeah,” I said “Jonathan did that to me too at the end of the trail, made me chat while running when I was barely sucking any air to begin with.” We decided he simply liked to hear women pant!

 

And, as it goes, Dave Too Long called the circle, absent his other half (remember, sitting back at Reade Street Pub?).

 

  • Hares Screaming Orgasm and Stephen were called and Stephen had to do another due to his late arrival at the front of the room. The usual banter about how shitty the trail was, too much Brooklyn, not enough Manhattan…you know we can be!
  • Virgins Jeff, Laura and Joanna
  • Meho, a former NYC hasher with a built in hash name!
  • And while we are on the “Ho” topic, Massachusetts Heather related a story of swaying into the bike lane on the Brooklyn Bridge and getting called a Ho by displeased biker
  • Slow night in the circle so Dave called on an old tried and true tactic to entertaint he masses: the classic Random Abuse of Power down down…to Bruce, workmate of HUA and slow down down drinker who finished off his down down by spitting it on yours truly. Talk about Scribe abuse! He’ll get his on the next Full Moon!
  • Ewa was called up as a representative of her native Poland, whom England just beat…and weren’t we all pleased by Dave’s solo performance of “Shit on the Bastards Below”?!?!
  • Last but not least, as predicted by the Magic 8 Ball, AOTW to Mean Jean for earlier said on in disclosure offensives.

 

The usual type of shenanigans ensued after: Fast American Dave’s fascination with elbows continues (ask Cockstar!). The female fascination with a certain of Dave’s, a-hem, appendages continues as Ookie Cookie burst in on him in the men’s room; she claims to have only gotten a back view! And everybody’s fascination with nipple rings was satisfied with Bruce’s zealous displays of his chest. Booty Call, back running on said booty, was in rare form, treating the hangers on to a couple of buckets more of the PBR once hash cash ran out. Virgin Joanna looked on in a bit of trance-like state, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into… as do we all, Joanna, as do we all!

 

Magic 8 Ball, how will my life turn out if I continue hashing?

Outlook not so good.

 

On out.


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