BH3 #322

Brooklyn Hash House Harriers

Run #322

Jan 31, 2005

Hare: Stephen B, Whoremaster

Hash Name: Stephen’s Food Fiasco

On In: Chez Whorehouse

Scribe: The Saint


The Scene


A warmish wind blew across the northeast this night, but that encouraged only the usual ragtag suspects to Brooklyn for this latest effort from the esteemed Whoremaster sans Whores.  The hashers included Hedgehog; Beth; the new guy who laid a really bad trial in Prospect Park a few hashes ago – subsequently determined to be Anger Management Steve; Screaming Orgasm; Fluffy (as Bag Hag); JB; and yours truly.  SCRORG and I arrived late and she screamed off but we were to reunite later (not as you think as her boyfriend showed up late well into the On In) on the course.  Stephen’s description of course length was “not long but not a punt (which it was)” but then you know this boy and exaggeration ….


It would appear that Marty Moskowitz, the Borough President, and Hizzoner do not get along because there was more snow in Brooklyn than expected.  Or should be allowed.  I remember a mayor being kicked out of office in Chicago because of crappy snow removal efforts, but not in NY where such provincial attitudes do operate.


The Hash was fine with the classic (pencil dick) marks that three out of four BH3ers know as reminiscent of the young WMaster’s marks.  He must have thought that we were slower than we looked as he was marking up the hill – your Scribe ran past the On In — and had to be called back.  Apparently the lead pack of on-timers were standing in the vestibule – yes Stephen you do have one – waiting to be let in.  Perhaps they saw the red light and knew it was the Chez WM? 


Food Fight


The one thing – alright there are several aspects of the WMaster’s personality that I truly appreciate — is that he does have opinions.  Forget whether they are right, relevant, ridiculous riveting, rank, etc, etc.  I remember the first time we ended up in The  (this was long before the famous subway check which also needed here) with S as hare where Fluffy, the Cardinal (how the hell is he) and someone else Crofty (?) and your Scribe. After throwing a few behind the tie – well-known argot for drinking en Francais — and Stephen suggested Peruvian food likely from some dive close by perhaps by car as he does move about in this manner in Brooklyn only of course.  YUCKO!  I begged off and headed to a slice of pizza (The most perfect food) and back to whatever leftover mélange could be found in my frig.  Not sure if the Peruvian was obtained, but at least they did not perish from consuming it.  Sterility?  ‘Nother question.




BUT, this time it would be different!  Stephen suggested Carolina barbeque.  Well, the Saint is from Texas and I knew that no worthwhile goddam BBQ was to be found in outer Brooklyn – and then delivered ready to eat!  No (original Inwood Road only) Sonny Bryan’s or Angelo’s to be found.  But, I am tolerant and his heart was in the right place plus SRMORG eats no meat – at least the four-legged type – and Stephen noted their catfish was tasty.  Net, figured I would not die and it was not White Castle.


Only time would tell.


If we had a penny for each minute late or for each degree Stephen body temp rose while waiting or his “arguments” with the restaurant – some two-bit place too far away – then Hash Cash would support the next decade of BH3s!


Fortunately there was plenty of beer imported by the case form some local suds warehouse.  Now I am not sure if a profit was turned but it was bottom line, reasonable fun.


Just after canceling, the food arrived.  Pretty bloody mediocre.  I believe I threw some of the glop into the microwave to nuke.  In Texas, they would have lynched the “restaurant” owner, delivery person and host.  In Brooklyn, they are PC – but know diddly about bbq.


Lesson Learned


Stick w/ pizza.


On Out

The Saint