NYCH3 # 1080

Start:  SW corner of 16th St & 8th Ave

Hares:  HUA & Mean Jean

On-in:  Otto’s Shrunken Head Tiki Bar, 14th St. btwn Aves A & B

Guest Scribe:  Flaccido Domingo

In attendance:  Norma, Alison, Heather, Dave Long, Fast Amer. Dave, Joanna, Karen, Rich, Walkabout, Wet Connection, Ed Lunch, Nail Driver, Smash Mouth, Dave Hardy, Scottish Andrew, Pearl Necklace, Mary, Stacia, Nona, Loretta, Jumpin’ Jack Gash, James, Chad & Ben, 2xBruce, Alice, Janeway, Son of Janeway, Mastercard, Leslie, Mickey Mouth, Hannah, Baboon Ass, Pussy Repellant, Kerry, 2 Jons & an Eric, Peter, John Burke, & me.  (And many others I’m sure I forgot.)

……………………………….

It was a chilly, damp, grey afternoon as the pack assembled on West 16th St.  Some smiled.  Some did not.  Some stretched.  Some fidgeted.  Some – like me – fought the urge to curl up and nap on the sidewalk.  It was obvious who had been out the night before.

 

Rich shared with those within earshot that his wife had admonished him to “not come home tipsy like usual.”  We were stunned into silence.  Fast Amer. Dave suggested that “technically, coming home really drunk” wouldn’t violate her dictum.  Rich pondered.

 

Finally the hare called all to attention.  Pulses quickened, adrenaline flowed.  I risked having a stroke.  And we were off.

 

Down into the West Village we descended.  Some left turns, some right turns.  The details escape me.  I recall short-cutting.  Or trying to.  Soon we found the river.  Some – notably newbies – actually crossed the west side highway.  What possesses these people?  From across the highway we were able to witness Virgin Elizabeth actually following the trail marks out towards the end of the first pier they came to.  Mercifully somebody explained before she got too far that it was unlikely the trail crossed the Hudson.  At the next pier she broke right again, confusion written on her face as the rest of the pack kept heading straight downtown.  They say Virgins can be fun, so long as you’re very patient.

 

Down to the Holland Tunnel, up over the walkway, and into Tribeca.  HUA’s words echoed in the air…  “It’s a longish trail.  Maybe 5 miles, maybe more.”  It felt like it’d been 3 or 4 miles.  Maybe the end was near?  Maybe HUA had lied and it was really a very short trail.  There were lots of good bars nearby for an On-in.  Uh, no.

 

Across Canal, through the parking lot, up Broadway, right on Spring St, the pace quickening.  Could it be?  Spring Lounge On-in?  Oh Lord let it be…  What’s the French term for “You’re fucked, turn left on Lafayette”?  Across Houston, a check on that strange little intersection.  No pack marks to be found.  North we went, a quick couple of turns and there it was…  McSorley’s!!  Could we have found our home for the afternoon?  Once again we went looking for our French phrasebook.

 

We worked our way towards Thompson Square Park, Virgin Elizabeth went splat on some crooked pavement sending her phone one way and her keys the other.  I was prepared to sacrifice the completion of the trail and share a cab to the on-in, but she would have nothing of it.  Did I mention that Virgins can be a pain in the ass?  So she was helped to her feet and on we went.

 

Into the park where we found an “MJ Check”.  There she was in all her glory.  Looking like she had stepped off the set of Leaving Las Vegas.  Gatorade bottle clutched tightly by two white knuckled hands.  Glassy-eyed look I had only seen prior to this on patients on a morphine drip.  I could be wrong, but I’d swear I saw her reach two or three times for a clicker by her side, as if she wanted to up her meds again.

 

Meanwhile HUA worked frantically mixing some sort of concoction in the big orange tub.  Looking ominously like Miracle Max, he explained that MJ was not completely dead, only mostly dead.  The rest of us steamed and shivered as we drank down his potion.  Apparently the stuff worked, for we were compelled to go forward.  Not far away, we happily found the on-in…

 

Kyle was in the house already with his very fancy laptop showing homemade movies from the marathon.  At one point when he got up to go to the bathroom we discovered a folder on his desktop called “Fun Stuff”.  Inside were other folders called “Bondage”, “Bukkake”, “Bestiality” and a mysteriously titled “Even Better Fetishes”.  Alas he came back before we could investigate further.

 

Otto’s complemented its very strange décor with a warm aroma of urine, but that didn’t stop the usual suspects from using the back area to enter various stages of undress.  There was some sort of underground band scene happening in the back, but it was so underground that they didn’t seem to have any kind of audience.  The only fun to be had was trying to figure out who looked more out of place – us or them. Or so it went until the JM called everybody to order for Down-Downs.  And so it went:

 

  1. The Hares, HUA & Men Jean.  MJ – on the verge of vomiting – decided to go for the record and see if she could drag out her down-down until Monday afternoon.
  2. MJ again, this time for turning 30.  Scottish Andrew chosen to do the down-down by proxy because “he got her in this condition”.  The condition was not specified.  But two doctors on scene agreed she shouldn’t drink more.
  3. HUA for getting older as well.  Shame on you.
  4. Virgins & Visitors:  Son of Janeway, Declan,  Elizabeth (from DC?) Emily (Anouk made her cum, apparently), and Tamara.
  5. Bill Janeway for bringing his son to the hash and promptly ditching him on the trail.  A long-winded version of the new tradition: “If one Janeway drinks…”
  6. Ed Lunch.  Why not.
  7. The know-it-all newbie in the Brooklyn shirt.  (Anybody else notice that Dave Long likes giving down-downs to people whose name he doesn’t know?)
  8. Chad & Drew & Elizabeth because…  Hmmmm, I think your scribe needs to pay closer to attention to what goes on in the circle…
  9. Doug for, get this, thinking about wearing new shoes, but not wearing new shoes, but his s.o. (Mickey Mouth) turning him in for thinking about it.  Ain’t that a pisser?  Having to drink out of your old shoes…
  10. And finally, AOW went to MJ. 

 

Amen.  Q.E.D.  Fin.  On-on.


Posted

in

by

Tags: