Hares: Jumping Jack Gash & Kerry
On-in: Jake’s Dilemma, 81st &
Scribe: Mean Jean
It was the day after the day after the night after the night after the night before.
Or, put more simply, Day 5 of my drinking binge, my lost weekend, my tumble off the wagon. (Was I ever on a wagon? Do they have wagons at the Patriot cause I could have fallen off one there once?)
It was time. Time to face some hard realities. My name is Mean Jean the Down Down Machine and I am a hashaholic. Yes, it was time for
The 12-Step Program
- We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable.
I emerged from the subway at 50th & Eighth at precisely 3:15PM assuming that the last few moments before the pack would be set off would be busy and I could slip in unnoticed. What happened instead was a full frontal assault of giggles and innuendo slung at this poor hungover girl regards certain activities from the previous day’s fesitivities. From Cockstar to Peter & Lesley, from Wet Connection to the Saint (HEY! He wasn’t even there yesterday), from Dr Steve to Jonathan (AGAIN dude, not there! Not fair!). Burke, Hardy, Geoff (hey, he hasn’t even been in the country in six months…really not RIGHT!) I could find no comfort there.
You see dear friends the hangover the day before, New Year’s Day, was such that only that greatest of Powers would suffice. I’m, of course, speaking of the Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary Full of Grace. The celery stalk is with you. Blessed are you amongst hangovers and blessed is the fruit, the tomato (oh and horseradish is pretty good too). Bloody Mary, mother of drunks, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our sobriety. Amen.
And indeed it did restore me to sanity albeit for about an hour before its regular hallucinogenic properties took hold. And mayhem apparently ensued.
- Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
I’m sorry, I thought for a second that said “turn our will and our liver over to the care of God…” Anyway…
Hmmm, well, apparently I’m a poor sport at Cranium. And I’m a little critical of artistic renderings of sunflowers. Oh and I throw things at Mastercard sometimes.
- Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
Okay, we’ll get to the “the wrongs” a little later when we hit the circle.
- Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
I’m pretty sure I removed all those defects myself when I vomited earlier that morning but hey, I could be wrong so, sure, have at it God.
- Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
Okay, shortcutting. Yes, I can talk about that. (You were beginning to wonder when I’d get to trail and hash itself, weren’t ya?). So hares Jumping Jack Gash and Kerry told us a few things (the usual checks and backchecks and speedchecks, oh my) and sent us east along 50th street. JJG took pity on me and answered honestly when I whispered back to him, where’s the on in. Let’s face it, I was here to put on a show of being together enough to run a trail the day after the night before but it wasn’t really going to possible, now was it? So the show must go on and off I trooped. We quickly turned north mid-block though a parking garage and east and north again through a hotel breezeway a couple of blocks later. We were across Broadway and Seventh before too long but turned south through another breezeway, this one equipped with a car elevator and one angry attendant who enjoyed scaring the shit out of us with his stereophonic yelling to stop running through the damn elevator. No matter to us, we crossed through and continued through the restaurant Remi before heading east again around 50th or so. When we hit Rock Center and one of JJG’s incredible, anally-engineered straight arrows sent us wham bam into the thick of the tourists, I ditched WC, Paul, Patrick, and Ewa and promptly made haste toward Fifth Ave to make my way straight to Central Park. I can only assume the troops headed east for a wee while because I hit the FRBs and a check at 59th Street. I checked west in front of the Plaza only to find a false amidst the epiths shouted at me for shortcutting.
The check was solved into the park, natch, and in we went, heading north towards the skating rink, through the carosuel, and around the north end of the Sheep Meadow. Nausea got the better of me at this point and I sidled the other way round and slunk through Tavern’s parking lot out to the West Side, toward Broadway and north to Jake’s Dilemma on Amsterdam and salvation for my sorry state.
- Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all.
Because most of the persons I had harmed were hanging out in the back room at Jake’s, I wisely sat at the bar in front where HUA had perched. The spot at the bar was oft-visited by JJG and Kerry slinging pitchers for the back room. Magoo visited too, really enjoying my state. HUA and I made a fearless and searching inventory and found no JMs at the hash at all. Carpe diem, said I. Or was it Carpe the only way out of many down downs. At any rate, HUA and I took on circle duties and set out to find fault with the pack. Trail offenses were rather limited so the tide turned to people’s New Year’s improprities. Uh oh, This wasn’t good ground for me even if I was wielding the plunger myself.
- Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
So we decided against amends and went with injuring with crap beer down downs once the Jets got off their asses and finally won their game. Up first were Hares Gash and Kerry. Gash stayed up for failing to set the hotline until after the pack was already in. Geoff Steamer Baldwin was up next for (dis)gracing us with his presence again after 6 months downunder somewhere. Dave Hardy celebrated a birthday on Jan 1 (boy his folks must have been pissed to not make the deadline for the tax write off that year!) Onto New Year antics and Dr Steve and Lesley’s mid-party cross-dressing, when Lesley wondered aloud about how skinny Dr Steve was and if she could fit into his jeans; wonder no more as he stripped down to his skivvies and Lesley fit into those jeans beautifully. Should be noted that Dr Steve also fit into Lesley’s skirt and each oddly looked better and seemed all the happier in each other’s clothes. Hmmmmm? Jonathan was next for greeting the New Year planted face down on a hardwood floor in Boston after being forcibly removed from someone’s bed. And then Magoo, last seen trading spit with some wench. Sahu took an on-trail tumble and was promtly awarded the Smashmouth but as a non-drinker (huh, whazzat?) had his down down done by non other than Smashmouth himself who had to take the opportunity to invoke the name of Barry Cohen (who the hell is…) Ewa’s very late arrival from trail was heralded not for her usual “TRAYL VAZ TOO SHART SO I YUN ANUDDER LOOOOOP” but for lying about it and shopping instead. And finally to AOTW…
- Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
HUA asked the circle if they had a nomination for AOTW, setting up yours truly. He then asked me if I thought I deserved it and after taking personal inventory (one cellphone, a $20 bill, metrocard, hash gloves, apartment key, as it turned out), I could only answer that indeed none was ever so worthy as I.
- Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
Did someone say “carry out”. I’ll have two bottles of white wine, three six packs, and, um, oh, not that kind of carry out.
- Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all of our affairs.
Okay, let’s take this one word at a time. “Spiritual”: the spirit was vodka. “Awakening”: around 7AM for the vomiting, about noon after that. “Carry this message”: The only message is, a sunflower is in the eye of the beholder. “Alcoholics”: yes, we are. “Practice these principles”: Yes, practice makes perfect. Let’s all meet up again next Sunday. “Affairs”: don’t mind if I do.