Official Organ of the Greater Gotham Full Moon
Hash House Harriers
G2FMH3 Hash #210 – Friday, June 20, 2008
Start: Metropolitan and Graham
On-In: Legion Tavern, Metropolitan and Humboldt
Scribe: Just Scot
The prospects for a successful Full Moon Hash were not looking up. It was rumored that almost all the usual hash crowd was engaging in some sort of mass-racist behavior—in Vermont, of all places. If it wasn’t all of the usual hash crowd, it was certainly anybody who was anybody in the hash. So the question for some became, if you aren’t one of the chosen few in the hash, do you want to admit it by showing up at the Full Moon? And if you couldn’t even crack the hash elite, what did your life really amount to? And even if it were, did you really want to schlep all the way out to Brooklyn on a Friday night?
For the fortunate, the few, and the proud for whom the answers to the foregoing were: yes; a lot, provided there’s enough beer to dull the pain; and yes, again provided beer will be part of the equation, the trip to Brooklyn proved to be worth the effort (and the ignominy of not being someone in the hash).
The weather at the start was gorgeous. But, according to Dog Face, the hare, the forecast all day had been for rain. It even looked as though it might rain while he was setting the trail. So the trail was short, well-marked, and—best of all—no false trails. “One and yer on!” That saying ranks right up there with “free beer for all the hashers” in the pantheon of favorite hash sayings.
In spite of the Brooklyn start and the absence of anybody who is anybody, the pack still was large enough to actually be called, “a pack.” We were helped out greatly by some visiting hashers from Parts Down South. There were about 5 visitors who were either in the armed forces or in the reserve. This being pinko-commie-liberal New York, nobody thanked them for their service to the country. Dog Face handed out chalk, ran through the instructions, and sent us off.
With the tower of the Willy-B Bridge looming not too far off, there were those among us who had hopes that we’d wind up in Manhattan. No such luck. As promised, the trail was short and well-marked. The pack was able to stay together fairly well, although our military friends had some problems with the Eagle trail. We ended at Legion, just a block from the start. How’d he do that?
With nobody of any official stature present to preside, the down-downs were officiated by Just Scot (or is he?), who appointed Dog Face JM pro tem. Not much is remembered of the down downs, they being so ineptly conducted. Greg Hairy Ass was given one for claiming at the start that he needn’t carry chalk because he was never an FRB. Needless to say, Greg finished first. Other down downs were handed out, but they are not nearly as important as this hash public service announcement:
The people who can most usefully carry chalk are the back of the packers. You are the ones who are near the check when “on-on” is called. You can, and should, carry chalk. The people who least usefully carry chalk are the FRB’s. For one thing, when they find trail, they’re a long way from the check. And for another thing, they are almost uniformly wankers who can never be relied upon to come back to the check once trail has been found.
Having gotten that off my chest, I am out of space. Set this down, pick up your beer, and volunteer to take chalk the next time you hash.