Brooklyn Hash House Harriers
October 14, 2002
Run #259
Hares: Stacie and Jerry
On In: Turkey’s Nest
Scribe: The Saint
The dawn broke hard over Brooklyn showering this famed, populous borough with the first rays of light to reach NYC. Brooklyn, first in the eyes of the sun, first in population with 2,465,326 souls and first in the minds of hashers desperate to run in territory other than flat, gridline cement.
Brooklyn was founded in 1646 (authorized by the Dutch West India Company and became the first municipality in what is now New York State) and the BH3 followed a few years later in 1993. The borough was populated initially by beer making (and drinking) Dutchmen (and women) followed shortly thereafter by, to paraphrase Hedley Lamar, pugs, thugs, horn swagglers, cow rapers, sodomists, bikers, hikers, pikers felons, chanticleers, limeys, hoods, hooks, hooters, and lastly Methodists. Their offspring multiplied and attracted those who settle and thrive there today.
This event started with a gaggle of brave hashers who met in an up and coming (have you ever heard of an up and not coming anything?) yuppified neighborhood subway stop where we witnessed democracy in action featuring paid citizens attempting to enlist commuters to register to vote. Starters included Roy who left immediately to walk the course due to a non-hash running injury (and finished ahead of us all anyway having correctly ciphered 90% of the numerous checks), a Brooklyn virgin Sally from the UK (who fortunately had been deflowered in Manhattan) and roughly a dozen of the usual louts who make their way to this largest borough, home of the best beer in NYC.
The course provided aromas ranging from bakeries to highway underpasses to industrial communities, had a few decent hills and was generally well laid. Did someone mention the numerous checks? Plenty of cement, plenty of chalk, plenty of locals who marveled as we sleekly ran through the night. Note to gentle and (mostly) non-gentle readers/critics: If anyone wants more of a course description tell me and, most important, provide some notes.
The On In, like most venues, was not virgin territory. What your writer found noteworthy was that the NYC Marathon apparently goes past it although nary a marathoner could be found checking out the course this evening. The good news was that the beer was cold, presumably cheap; most smokers moved away from our group; the locals were bemused by our presence; pizza was delivered right to our table via a side door; the jukebox was packed; and it was close to the subway. That apparently was not enough for some who for an inexplicable reason sought a yuppie fern bar as opposed to this shining example of a Brooklyn pub. Eva or Ewa (your choice) vociferously complained that we could have gone to this or that establishment which were so close by. She was eventually roundly condemned and given (her usual) down down. This writer suggests that we all dress up formally and have a proper hash experience with our On In venue at the Japan Society; we know someone who can arrange it.
The biggest surprise was the arrival of Christine simultaneously with those who chose to run the course. Crofty (surprised ?) spilled the beans about her date that evening which the Grand Mistress of the Manhattan Hash had fully hedged by arriving at the On In on time. A few brave souls meekly mentioned that she had been expected. (I wonder when Crofty goes on dates does he tell Christine?)
The On In was also notable for the arrival of Steve who claimed to have been shafted by being left off the Hash Ballot at the recent AGM. A victim of a hanging chad, electronic espionage or simply disappearing? Apparently, this individual formerly held the office of Whoremaster although none were in sight to herald his arrival and he vocally sought to have his title (!) reinstated. This writer would suggest that the proof is in the performance so Mr. WM, walk your talk or as we say in Brooklyn, put up or shut up!
On Out!