Stats:                     Hares: Rich and Sujan

                                        Start: Astor Place

                              On-In: PJ Kelly’s

      Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe): Scottish Andrew

‘Tis the night – the night

Of the grave’s delight,

And the hashers are at their play;

Ye think that without

The wild winds shout,

But no, it is they – it is they.

There’s perhaps only one thing more bizarre than seeing a bunch of hashers r*nning through the streets of lower Manhattan by the light of the silvery moon shouting “On On!” and that is a bunch of hashers, dressed up in costume, r*nning through the streets of lower Manhattan by the light of the silvery moon shouting “On On!”. (The record will reflect that many other things were shouted such as, “Are you f*cking on or what?”, “I didn’t see a check, are you *sure* it was false?”, and “One Timex digital watch, broken; one unused prophylactic; one soiled.” but worry ye not, we shall get to those in due course.)

Our ghoulish tale begins on the Witching Hour of All Hallow’s Eve at Astor Place, where our hares for the evening, the Warlock and Mr. Trump, greeted a large group of  ghastly-looking hashers that would have left the hosts of “What Not To Wear” requiring a not insubstantial amount of therapy. (It’s at this early juncture in the write-up that I’ve realised referencing individuals by their real names, their hash names and/or their Halloween costume names will cause some degree of confusion. If you thought I was going to dispel that confusion, let me just disabuse you of that idea right now.)

The trail led off towards the East Village with an early Chicken/Eagle Split around 7^th & 2^nd Ave. The Chicken apparently went up to 10^th Street while the Eagle went east through Tompkins Square Park and then back out. Adam & Eve (appropriately?) led the way, followed by the Alien and the Blues Brothers (without whom, quite frankly, no Halloween would be complete). Everything was going swimmingly (well as swimmingly as it can when you’re with a bunch of people who wouldn’t look out of place at…err…actually, there’s nowhere they wouldn’t look out of place) until we stumbled upon a false mark on 2^nd Ave. The preceding four trail marks and absence of a check mark completely threw the FRBs and it wasn’t long before the entire pack had caught up and was wandering aimlessly around 2^nd Ave. As you might expect, the attention that such confusion drew varied considerably depending on whether you happened to be dressed as a Viking, Wonder Woman, a Rastafarian, a hick, Little Red Riding Hood or a girl in bloke’s underwear and a white shirt.

After several minutes of “loitering with intent”, during which every ghoul, goblin & red-stockinged 18^th Century Buccaneer had been to inspect for themselves the large, emphatic “F” inscribed on the sidewalk, someone or something (Fast American Alien?) found the trail heading west and we set off again in the direction of Washington Square Park, whereupon we headed south into SoHo. The trail was now at least a four-miler with no end in sight which was less problematic if you were just wearing a dry-cleaning bag than it was if you happened to be wearing a giant foot. We wound our way towards the Patriot for a much needed Beer Check (when is beer *not* “much needed”?) at the Patriot (Church & Chambers). There was little rest for the wicked and it wasn’t long before we were once more on our way. The trail wound its way around City Hall and on to Fulton where we arrived at the On-In: PJ Kelly’s (Fulton & William).

The Down-Downs were administered by Jumping “Jake” Gash (see what I did there?) and the Mean Freudian Slip (oh I did it again). The Hares first, because that’s the order of things, and then a howling horde of virgins and visitors (has anyone seen them since?). The informalities having been dispensed with, the JMs proceeded with the Annual Halloween Costume Awards.

The Best Theme went to Assoldier, toopisstols & cuntry and my queen. The Sexiest Male went to The Horny Little Devil while the Sexiest Female went to Joanne (she of the aforementioned bloke’s underwear and white shirt fame). The “Oh My God Is Today Halloween?” Award went to MasterCard (which is funny because you’d think it would go to someone who was usually absentminded or disorganised…Oh wait…). In the Lamest Costume category, Eric, with his token red horns was only just bested by Lunch with his no-token-at-all. The Best Costume was also a close tie with Jon’s On-On Big Foot only just beaten by Jonathan’s Laundry Bag.

After some food had arrived and more beer had been consumed, the pack started to howl & cavort to some truly awful eighties tunes… “I can climb the highest mountain, Cross the wildest sea, I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire burnin’ in me”…no, mate, that’s just last night’s chicken tandoori. I should, of course, note once more for the record that hashers do not require large amounts of food & beer in order to sing 80’s rock ballads but it helps non-hashers rationalise the behaviour when we have to explain it to them in the morning.

“From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggedy beasties and things that shout “On On!” in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!”

–Scottish saying

On On!