Easter Playboy Bunny R*n
April 8, 2007
Start: 96th and Broadway
On-In: Lion’s Head (109th and Amsterdam)
Well, its that time of year again, Easter Sunday with egg rolling, and Harriettes in skimpy bunny costumes, in the Park. Of course given the conditions (snow? Yes that was snow!), the harriettes were on the chilly side.
Cockstar was the hare, and we all met huddling at the corner of 96th and Broadway on the quiet Easter afternoon. As we took off into Central Park, a flurry would occasionally flutter down. Note: according my last scribing duty for the Chanukah Chash, it was a balmy 60, and I was complaining about bad skiing weather…oops. Anyway, the trail meandered eastward through the park, where one particular check baffled the troops, except for the proverbial FRB (Dave Long in this case) who I don’t recall provided any clues to the pack, by now getting hypothermic (or not). After noticing some arrows pointing across wide lawns to yet more arrows, the pack continued, eventually winding west out of the park at 103rd, then ending at a new (I think) on-in, a Columbia-ish bar with the random assortment of hard-core regulars, and a kitchen specializing in wings.
Down-downs first were to Cockstar. Next up were all the bunny costumed females (I think all in attendance were wearing at least something lapine-related). Wet Connection had a second down-down for her very conspicuous costume as well as the fact that she had to retrieve her bunny ears after a small child attempted to steal them. Also receiving down-downs was the relative newcomer and ex-Marine Hector, who also had a bunny (think pastels) theme. Said Marine also did 10 pushups in the circle (and later was seen asking Karen Z how she got her hash name). Got Wood was next for almost, but not quite, making the effort to leave the on-in and run at least part of the trail. FMIG got the usual birthday song, and Assh*le of the week in a surprising turn went to Heather, for changing into a relatively daring top after the run, only to change out of it before the circle. The hash cash thankfully lasted a while, even with the in-house food ordering. By the way, behind the bar were random numbers posted with names (i.e. Mark 49, or Pussy Repellent 84), at first cryptic until one noticed the Polaroids of red-faced men and women with giant plates of wings in front of them.
On a similar note, overheard at the bar were Cockstar and Pussy Repellent ordering the wings:
Cockstar: “They have 4 heat levels: mild, medium, hot, and AssBurner; I ordered half hot and half mild”
Pussy Repellent: “What about AssBurner, we got to get some of those!”
Ah, how sad when an already-named hasher hogs such a beautiful naming opportunity…