NYCH3 #1106

 

NYCH3 #1106

Date: May 18th, 2005

Start: Union Square

Hares: Dr. Steve, Doug & Pamela

On-in: Village Tavern (Bedford & Leroy)

Scribe: Fire-In-The-Piehole

 

 

Some people say it’s not the length, it’s what you do with it that matters…but those people are usually just trying to avoid hurting your feelings. When it comes to hash trails, at least, it’s very much about the length.

 

With a start at Union Square, one might wonder how the pack managed to turn up at an On-In in the West Village an hour and a half later with the thick end of seven miles of trail behind them. (Well, you might wonder that but you won’t because…err…that’s why we have Hash Write-Ups.)

 

There are many variables associated with the Hash: the probability that the trail will end in your neighbourhood; how many beers you can drink before Hash Cash runs out; the probability that Fuck Me I’m Gay will get AOTW or that MasterCard will lose her phone (okay, those last two aren’t really variables). However, by definition, the length of the Trail is one variable that is nigh on impossible to estimate in advance.

 

Nevertheless, I thought it would be useful for hashers to have a more accurate method of estimating the length of the r*n. After having brought my years of hashing experience to bear on the problem (well, at least my well-documented ability to make shit up), I came up with this little formula:

 

Trail Length = (HA / SH) + (BE / ER)

 

,where H is the number of Hares setting trail, A is the number of Assholes setting trail (normally equal to the number of Hares), SH is the average running speed of the Hares (measured in furlongs per fortnight), E is the Effort (measured in ballparks) that you’re prepared to expend figuring this shit out, BE is the equivalent amount of Beer (measured in kegs) that you could have been drinking in the meantime and R is the first random number that pops into your head.

 

All of which is to say that this was not a short trail. Hey, why use six words when three hundred will do? Now I’m not going to give a blow by blow account of the trail because, quite frankly, you’ll fall asleep in your beer. Suffice to say that it began with a big loop north of Union Square which culminated in a cross-over at 2nd & 19th. Chip & Dale fell for it and headed north the way they’d already been and a large chunk of what could only be described as “the flock” followed on.

 

A few of us (read: those who were too slow to keep up) headed east on true Trail, picking up a couple of lost virgins who hadn’t made it to the start and had decided instead to follow the random yellow arrows spray painted on the sidewalks and roads by the ConEdison/TimeWarner/Verizon Hash.

 

We headed through Stuyvesant Town and southeast towards the river. Too Long led us over the FDR and continued south. Some of the lemmings had by now caught up and, apparently having evolved while on trail, were smart enough just to head directly south without crossing the Drive.

 

What followed was a lengthy southern loop which, to be honest, is a bit of a blur as I was slowly losing the will to live. All I can say is that it must be in breach of several Hash By-Laws to pass so many bars without a Beer Check in any of them. The oasis in our desert was the Village Tavern (Bedford & Leroy), where the usual abuse and remonstrations were hurled at the Hares and, after several lawsuits had been filed, the Down-Downs were administered.

 

The Hares: Dr. Steve, Pamela & Doug because well…err…thems the rules and then the Hares again for the second half of the Trail. The Visitors, of which there were none, and the Virgins, of which there were two: Joe and Chris. Their names are recorded here for posterity and because, let’s face it, after this experience you’re never going to see them again. They’re probably heading back to the ConEdison/TimeWarner/Verizon Hash so I hope you didn’t waste any time going through that getting-to-know-you chit-chat nonsense.

 

Fuck Me I’m Gay went through his third renaming in as many months after it was discovered that he had a 12:01am ticket to a galaxy far, far away… Jubilation amongst the pack died down when it transpired that it wasn’t that far away and that he’d be back next week. Henceforth, Fuck Me I’m a Nerd.

 

Not-So-Fast American Dave (aka Non-British Dave) received the Smashmouth award for failing to see some “invisible fences”. He apparently ploughed straight through them and was afforded a head-first encounter with the not-so-invisible ground.

 

Finger-lickin’ Good and Jim both received down-downs for nipple bleeding incidents on trail. Most people thought the Trail was torturous enough but the sadomasochists amongst us, it seems, found it somewhat lacking in that regard.

 

Finally, Dr. Steve was provided with a third down-down after informing his “very good friend” Ookie-Cookie, who is currently recovering from injury, that this would not be a long trail. This was apparently a new definition of the word “long” with which Ookie-Cookie was not familiar.

 

Hmm…a guy redefining the word “long”. ‘Nuf sed.

 

On On.

 


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