New York City Hash House Harriers

NYCH3 # 1071

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NYCH3 #1071, September 29, 2004

HARES: Scottish Andrew and Crazy Bob

On In: Mc’Somethings (at the Seaport)

Scribe: Cockstar

HASH SONNET #73

 

That time of year thou mayst in us behold

When the hash doth  move to Sundays

From summer Wednesdays and the weather gets cold,

Bare ruin’d bodies, where late the sweet NASS sang.

In us thou seest the savages of sun,

Having spent too much time at the beach having fun ,

Which by and by the cold black nights will soon take away,

Winter’s second self, that chafes us all Marathon day.

In us thou see’st the glowing of such beer

That on the hashes of our youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must cheer

Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.

This thou perceivest, which makes our love for the hash more strong,

To love that well which we must leave ere long.

 

 

 (With apologies to our dear friend Bill  with-the-Shakes-peare)

 

So, here we are again, fall.  The best season of the year, and it’s not just because it’s my birthday.  The weather is cooler, which makes r*nning much more tolerable and, let’s face it, it’s just getting too f***ing dark to r*n at 7PM.

 

Our group was relatively small, given the swell of new hashers this summer.  But, as it true of all hashing, the new members become regulars and thus cease to be referred to as Newbies.  NOTE:  That does not mean, however, that any contract entered into for the sake of fornicating on the hash is null and void.

 

Our pack gathered at the smelly start on Fulton and South Streets.   Fast Am. Dave #6 with Devo in tow, John Burke, Wet Connection, Jacob, Gary, Dave and Steve, Bruce, Ste (of Stewa), John H., Stacia, Chris, Leo, Heather, Cree and Carla, Dave Hardy, Jonathan, MasterCard, Denise and Patrick.  HUA and Dave Long were late to the start – so they missed all of the check(s).   More about that in a minute.

 

I decided to give the trail a go, despite having taken a monster digger on the Summit hash in the same area, while Mean Jean bag-hagged it due to a cold.  We had one visitor from Amsterdam, Five Pack, who MJ was surprisingly able to recognize from her  “hash”-infused trip to Amsterdam.  We started off west on Fulton, I think.  R*n past our old home – Jeremy’s and then north on Pearle Street towards Confucius Square (flash back to digger on Summit hash), through nasty parts of China Town with the usual stench of fish, fermented bean curd, stinky tofu, cigarettes and God-only-knows-what. 

 

There was a check at Confucius Square that was solved pretty quickly.  The pack was pretty spread out, so there were a bunch of FRB’s who found themselves winding through the streets in SoHo way ahead of the rest of us.  We r*n east on Spring and, by the time the slower r*nners got to Lafayette, the FRB’s somehow decided to turn south.  I never saw an arrow or a check.  The rest of the trail, I submit, was well marked – if not a bit boring.  We traipsed through the LES and found our way back in China Tow, r*nning down Grand and then onto Allen until we hit the bottom of the Williamsburg Bridge.  Then it was a straight shot under the FDR back to the South Street Seaport. 

 

Thinking that we’d never find a place cheap enough for us in the Seaport, I thought about shortcutting the stairs up to the 3rd floor.  But, I followed Carla and MC up – thank G*d, ‘cause that was the on-in.

 

As we mingled at the bar (we were the only ones in the joint) we were joined by a couple of civilians: Junior, Wa (of Ste) Yello Smello and Sideshow Bob.  Gary made a quick exit.  NOTE: I saw him drinking a beer before he bolted without paying hash cash.  The hares opted for pub grub this time.  Thus, the nachos were soggy, the potato skins frozen, the chicken fingers rubbery and the mozzarella sticks oily.  But, surprisingly, no one went hungry.

 

We congregated outside on the veranda for the Circle.  Because we were the only ones in the bar, we didn’t piss anyone off by turning down the music and singing songs off key.  So, without further ado, the down-downs:

 

The hares, because they go first.

 

The hares, because there were only two checks.

 

The hares for an alleged phantom 3rd check.

 

Visitor Five Pack from Amsterdam.

 

Visitor Five Pack for a fashion violation.  He r*n in jeans.  According to hash lore, the last person to r*n in jeans got hit by car.

 

More fashion violations:  Fast Am. Dave #6 for wearing a plaid shirt.  When one fashion-challenged man drinks, they all drink.  Sideshow Bob and DBB – for wearing plaid shirts.

 

Devo, as a FRB and stand-in for Gary.  In all fairness, this should have of gone to Gary who, if you remember, buggered off after drinking a beer and failed to pay hash cash.  Anyhoo,  Gary apparently came in first, proudly proclaimed the same, was totally without chalk and never marked a Goddamned thing!  Dave hardy was called up to drink because this offense is usually his.

 

AOW went to Denise (recently named Slip-and-Slide) for putting down false pack marks.

 

Hash cash ran out by 10:15 or so, but that didn’t stop the usual dr*nks from sticking around until the bartender kicked them out at midnight. 

 

‘Till the spring time my dear hashers!

 

On-out.