GGFM #207

  

The Truth

Official Organ of the Greater Gotham Full Moon

Hash House Harriers

G2FMH3 Hash #207 – Friday, March 21, 2008

Hares:  Junky Monkey & Fire In The Piehole

Start:  86th & Lexington

On-In:  Soldier McGee, Amsterdam & 83rd St.

Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe):  Greg Hairy Ass (with help from US Marine Whore) 

Why is it that as I get older, beer intake leads me to volunteer for stupid things…like setting trail in Brooklyn or doing a write-up for a hash that I don’t really remember all that well?  I’ll give it my best.  Thanks, in advance, to USMW for her notes and apologies to anyone I’ve missed.

Despite the fact that it seems gruesomely sacrilegious to host a hash on Good Friday, that didn’t stop a good sized pack of about 30 from coming out to the Upper East Side for a glorious start.  Come to think of it, having a hash on Easter Sunday seems almost as bad, but any chance for the harriettes to parade about in bunny costumes should be applauded, so perhaps I’ll just have another snort of the sacramental wine and get on with it.

I’ve been told that the trail was magnificent, including many unique and exciting twists and turns.  Full of wonderous shiggy.  New and miraculous locations to run.  In short it was meaningful, original and fed the souls of hashers throughout the world.  Yeah, yeah.  I know.  What a load of cr*p.  Okay, let’s just say that with the exception of a really messed up check near some building at the top of some hill – thanks to all the r*nners for that scintillating feedback – that it was eerily reminiscent of past trails.

Meanwhile, Messrs Monkey and Piehole unloaded bags into Soldier McGee at 83rd and Amsterdam.  The bar itself was nice – though a bit upscale for our motley.  The real concern was that it was already pretty much wall-to-wall yuppies by 7:45.  This despite the fact that Junky Monkey told me “it wasn’t this crowded when Andrew and I checked it out.”  One wonders if our laudable hares recced the bar on a Tuesday morning.  Well, we thought, f&%k it.

Three trips later, the bags were stacked in the corner…and under the table and along the walls and near the pool table.  Water cups were filled and laid upon the table (this caused quite a bit of consternation on the part of the bartenders.  Perhaps they thought we’d confused them with some trendy water bar and were a bunch of tee-totallers out to ruin their Friday night) and the pack started to trickle in to this tightly packed venue.

Fortunately, the robust aroma of 30 or so hearty hounds cleared out much of the back of the bar and, despite the folks who refused to give up control of the pool table, we were able to carve out a nice hashers only area.  Eventually, control was asserted and the circle formed.  Violations/celebrations included:

Junky Monkey and Fire in The Piehole for setting a shitty trail.

Virgins:  there was a note that there were 2 of them.  Lara brought by Jonah and Fawn (is that Liebowitz) whom Cockstar dragged along.  I seem to remember another young lass at the start, but she may have decided to keep her head down during the circle.

And of visitors, we had an abundance. 

There was a couple from Stockholm who thought that NY was kind of cold.  Come on!  Are you serious?  You’re from f&%king Sweden.  You live like 1,300 miles farther North and you think this is cold?

There were 3 guys who showed up at the start and I saw them drinking beer later.  I know that at least one of them was a visitor or returning hasher, but at least 1 or 2 were virgins.

Good Shit Lollycock was visiting from the West Coast (San Francisco, specifically).

Yellow Smellow was anointed and welcomed back to the pack after a year away.  She and her Hash House Horror showed up at the start.  She abandoned the pack once we got to the on-in, but Sideshow Bob stepped up to the plate and took her punishment.

Cockstar received a drink for returning from surgery.

Joe Pennsylvania and Heather received down downs for a fashion offense, though I don’t know for what (I was pretty much staring at the level of beer in my glass, wondering why it was that I hadn’t thought to double-fist…would have saved me much time waiting before the bartender).

Laura got a happy birthday down down.

Anna got sloppy in celebration for her return from Egypt.  One can only hope this trip was for pleasure.  Are hashers really the ones we want trying to broker peace to the Middle East?

Mean Jean seems to have gotten punished for drinking and passing out, but when and where, I don’t know.  Of course, I don’t remember seeing her for much of the evening, so perhaps she was sleeping off her alcohol intake while curled up underneath the pool table.

Peter seems to have called in to the hotline and gotten punished for that, but that doesn’t seem fair.  Afterall, if he’s willing to come out with a busted ankle, I think that shows amazing fortitude –or is that incredibly bad judgment…it’s hard to know which.

Scooter Gleason seems to have forgotten his flashlight and was rewarded for his actions.  Of course, he eats lots of carrots, so perhaps he figured he wouldn’t need one.

Roy Gilbert may have received a down down for returning to NY.  Of course, it might be that his evening commute simply brought him back to Manhattan. 

So that was it.  A quick round of St. Bernard (the lyrics appear below for those of you who wonder just what the hell we’re all babbling about) to welcome in the food and the beer flowed mightily, with a great selection on tap, until the wee hours. 

The monks of St. Bernard, St. Bernard, St. Bernard,
They don't give a bugger at all (at all!)
 

They rise up right early, right early, right early,
And pee through a hole in the wall. (the wall!)
 

The green leaves are yellow,
The green leaves are yellow,
The green leaves are yellow,
And so is the hole in the wall!  (in the wall!)
 

On Out!


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