Hares: Jumpin’ Jack Gash and Lauren
Start: Columbus Circle
On-Ins: Bull Moose Saloon (44th and 9th)
A big crowd turned up for the week…perhaps the President’s Day weekend had something to do with it, or maybe having the start at Columbus circle just naturally picks up a couple of random stragglers. At any rate, it was a perfect storm so to speak, combining a ton of visitors, virgins, and Ass Ranger.
The trail to no one’s surprise led into Central Park. At some point it left the park, on the East Side in fact. Soon after, a brave group of hashers boldly marked an impromptu beer stop at a UES bar. The trail continued long after the beer check, with lots of avenue crossing in midtown, eventually making it to Hells Kitchen, and the on-in at Bull Moose saloon, a divey establishment with a particularly rank odor upstairs that afternoon.
The crowd gathered in the upper deck despite the smell, imbibing and mingling, except for the pack of virgins that were sequestered at a big table at one end, a la the classic collection of tales “Virgins of the Elliptic Table”. After an appropriate period of time, the usual circle broke out. Rather unconventionally, due to a shortage at the Bull Moose hashers were forced to drink from their own glasses for down-downs.
First up were the hares. Next were visitors. There were a crowd of them, many quite loudly boisterous in their orthodoxy…singing long rambling songs, haranguing those having the gall to lounge on a sofa during the circle, et cetera et cetera. Checking the notes, they were from such remote corners of the Earth as Montreal, Austin, Southern Maryland, Montreal again (perhaps the Canadians had the urge to travel south to enjoy our holidays), Seattle, Cyprus, and Las Vegas, home of ex-NYCH3er Fuck Me I’m Actually Gay. Next up were the pack of virgins. Ass Ranger was simultaneously called up for whatever reason, being A.R. and all. After the virgins were shooed offstage down-downs were awarded to the instigators of the beer stop, Pussy Repellent and FMIG. Next were Noah’s Dinghy and US Marine Whore…apparently there haven’t been enough weddings or engagements in the hash in the past 3 or 4 weeks, so they stepped up this Valentine’s Day to fill the void. Cockstar was next, for a recent knee injury. Apparently she received it giving a ‘piggy back ride’ (no details were asked for, what her and Pussy Repellent and that Great Dane do in the privacy of their apartment is their own damn business). Finally, Assh*le of the Week was a tie, with AssRanger forced to share with Jon Carey, last seen infamously haring the 12-mile Long Island City hash. Whether intentionally or not, Mr. Ranger left his hat on in the circle, and received the last down-down.
Shortly after the circle the food was trotted out. Rather than pizza it was bar fare, with the quesadillas mighty tasty in my opinion. The food was rather scarce though. In fact it was pretty easy that night to pick on Lunch. Perhaps a half-hour or so after the food had quickly vanished, Ass Ranger conned a virgin into remarking in Lunch’s presence, “Hey look, is that more food coming?” You can guess what happened next.
At some appropriate time, hash cash ran out. Hashers collected their belongings, filed out of the bar, to disperse to wherever hashers disperse to.
Eager for Beaver email@example.com 718 522 5090 (c)
Jumpin’ Jack Gash firstname.lastname@example.org 917 566 2423 (c)
FMIG email@example.com 917 482 4401 (c)
Blackout firstname.lastname@example.org 646 508 4314 (c)
Fire-in-the-Piehole email@example.com 203 918 8853 (c)
Keep My Clothes On Lauren firstname.lastname@example.org 978 985 8870 (c)
Hot Rod email@example.com 917 660 4709 (c)
Joey Pennsylvania firstname.lastname@example.org 914 589 5103 (c)
Doggystyle email@example.com 917 545 8077 (c)
Danny Choriki firstname.lastname@example.org 917 754 1004 (c)
Flaccido Domingo email@example.com 917 620 3299 (c)