Brooklyn Hash House Harriers
Run #413 / June 16th, 2008
Hare: Nina and Roy
On In: Franklin Park Bar
According to the Web site, the trail was said to begin near the 7th Avenue B-Q stop but was later modified to say that it would start at Mooney's, though the hares couldn't exactly tell us if the bar would be open. Since that information could have been retrieved easily by a simple Google search, some of us wondered if the hares and trail could be trusted.
There were lots of initial moans and groans as hashers wondered if the rain would hold out. Eyes were being cupped and clutched as shards of Brooklyn street debris flew in the face of all who dared to wait outside, neglecting the oh-so-important lubing step as it turned out Mooney's was, indeed, alive and well. Laura was one of the few smart ones, and she happily finished her beer as the virgins learned the tricks of the trade from Nina, who, it must be said, refuses to hare without the presence of thunder and lightning.
Since we were so close to the park, it was no wonder that the majority of the trail existed within its domain; however, the hares were a little more clever than most as the entrance to the park required some fancy gymnastic-like moves, which were, undoubtedly, much easier for those hashers who had engaged in a little pre-lubing. For the rest of us, there were some clumsy movements as we hoisted ourselves up and over the bench and then over the wall while pedestrians looked on with befuddled amusement. Although it poured, thus making it ultra-easy for the virgin runners (and veterans who claim to be "checking") to soak up the rain and pretend it was sweat, the trail survived for the majority of the 3.5 mile run thanks to the park's many trees.
Once we exited the park, the trail went live, with most of us having to slow our pace to allow for Roy to leave new marks. Much of it was a steady incline past the zoo and on towards Crown Heights, where the location of the on-in was guessed correctly by FMIG miles earlier.
The beer selection was solid, the bartenders the polar opposite of those at Pug Uglies weeks prior, and the atmosphere deemed super-cool by several in-the-knows. Mary drank wine, but what's new? A woman breast-fed her baby in front of several eager hashers, and FMIG prepared the down-downs, which were, if I remember correctly, consumed out of glasses and not plastic cups; in fact, there was no paper or plastic in site at the Franklin, forcing us to be resourceful once the pizza arrived.
More than one virgin credited Laura with making him or her come (must've been that pre-lubing), and a new guy with a seven syllable name, which I frankly wouldn't remember even if I hadn't been getting drunk off of Green Flash IPA, drank up as well.
Lots of hashers called for cars as you can't expect to hail a cab on a street corner in Brooklyn on a Monday night, but the bar was so kick-ass that its out of the way location for some (not me-I walked home) didn't lead to any bitching, or at least any that was within my earshot.