Brooklyn Hash House Harriers
April 26, 2004
Hares: Paul and The Saint
Trail Name: Prospect Park Washout
On In: The Carriage House
Scribe: The Saint
A Wet Place
The best laid plans of man gang aft t’glay Robert Burns
Your scribe being a literary type remembered this line from the fabled Scottish poet from his 8th grade English class. Now whether my memory was aided or hormonally enhanced by the fact that my teacher was damned attractive; very young; short; and had some very large hogans could be debated and I would be willing to engage in this psychological discussion preferably by someone who resembled the same. In any case, that line is appropriate for this trail. I hauled maps of Prospect Park and surrounding were downloaded from prospectpark.org and yahoomaps.com to Phoenix where I attended our industry conference organized by my group such that they could be studied and a trail plotted on the long flight back to reality. This Monday was a natural for a trail as the pressures of the conference had now dissipated in the afterglow of the best ever event. What a time for this trail!
Now the brave and hearty group that assembled in the Grand Army Plaza tube stop was primed, pumped but not prim and also being a smart bunch chose not to venture into the downpour which started as we were marking the exit from the park. By the time we were back to the start our marks were basically dust.
Now those of you who routinely or have ever read one of these attempt to review events from the annals of the BH3 will recall that they are generally lite on trail details. As we will re-set this trail, there will be none in this case. Suffice to say when you read that Paul and The Saint have been recruited by the new GM do come as it is a good one. Suffice to say it includes some decent shaggy that will only be increased if we finally get a warm, dry night.
Those who showed up ran a loop in the park on general principle and then sprinted to the On In. About a ten-pack, but no real of Brooklyn virgins. The barman was friendly enough this being his first day. He left a little too much head which necessitated a comment from Your Editor as I was holding the cash and he did nuke the nacho cheese sauce he was preparing for the few, other patrons while I was waiting for our Down Down Beer, but it all worked out. We will return although not to this Pub when we re-set this trial: What do you think we are dim! So there is value in reading these scrawls.
A Letter From the Crowd
In #297 Your Editor fulfilled his promise of reprinting in full Stephen’s protest letter. While he was most appreciative of this more than grandiose gesture, the greatest pleasure came not from hearing his emphasized “What the *ucks” while reading or rather attempting to read the letter which I had translated into Italian, but from the pleasure of seeing the young man learn.
If anyone else would care to jot down a few lines, Your Editor stands ready to print them. Just choose an interesting dialect.
The now-dry hares of course; Stephen on general principles; Ewa for fiscal irresponsibility by ordering a pitcher of Stella and giggling about it,