BH3 #443

BH3 #443

January 12, 2009

Hare: P-Dicky

On-In: Mini Bar

 

At the start of his trail, P-Dicky gave us the following set of instructions: 1. At a certain point we would encounter an ice rink, at which point we should stop running and walk across; 2. we would later run down a narrow road; 3. after this we would be sent up a set of stairs, at the end of which we should stop and look around before we started running again.

 

After being cautioned thoroughly, we started out, running past Junior’s and zigging and zagging through the Fulton Mall area. I intercepted 69 Down, who had run from the city, on her way to the start, and we walked, her bag full of clothes on her back, to Atlantic Avenue, where she took off running again. A bit later Blackout passed me; even later than that, AARPenis ran past. But other than that, I didn’t see much of anyone after the few blocks following the start, so anything embarrassing anyone did on trail (that wasn’t covered during down-downs, of course) is safe with them.

 

I walked down Atlantic Avenue and turned onto what might have been Smith Street (I don’t remember exactly), and then through some side streets and main streets (I lost track) until an arrow pointed into what I realized was P-Dicky’s “ice rink”: a park with a circular path that was covered in ice. Thankfully by the time I got there a kind hasher had marked an alternative path around said iciness and down the alley next to the park. I can’t be sure, but this alley may have constituted the second of P-Dicky’s cautions, the narrow road, since I never saw anything else I felt qualified as such.

 

The trail soon led me parallel to, and then over, the BQE, after which I wandered through some quiet streets and past a house lit up with Valentine’s Day lights (yes, you heard me right). About here I encountered the third of P-Dicky’s instructions: the staircase, which crossed back over the BQE (or some other busy thoroughfare; geography is not my strong suit) and ended not only at a busy street but also with multiple warnings, scrawled in chalk: STOP! LOOK BOTH WAYS! DON’T WALK OUT INTO THE STREET, YOU IDIOT HASHERS! Ok, I might have exaggerated on that last one, but you get the point.

 

It wasn’t long before I turned onto Court Street and, after a time, found my way to the on-in, a smallish place aptly named Mini Bar that we easily filled – not to mention cleared of regular patrons not long after I arrived.

 

Down downs were handed out in the following manner to the following persons:

  • The hare, for too much ice and too much Carroll Gardens.
  • One more for P-Dicky, who was made to read the email he had written to a number of us the day before promising that his trail would be, and I quote, “kind of be like making love on a cool summer night at the shore…” And one for me for, might I note, politely agreeing that it was kind of like that.
  • Virgin Liz, whose coming was made possible by Josh.
  • A couple of birthday down-downs were given in absentia to Leo and Jock Full O’ Nuts. Leo’s down-down was given to the other Leo, and Jock Full O’ Nuts’, for reasons I don’t understand, was given to 69 Down.
  • Josh, for telling a story about sleeping with his sister (really, he just fell asleep next to her on the couch, but, this being the hash…) and for which he will henceforward be known as Legal in Some States.
  • Travis, for, my notes say, not running around the ice rink.
  • A multi-part down-down/announcement, which was first given to Fluffy, who passed it on to Blackout, who, in turn, nominated YankIt to drink/promote the inaugural Knickerbocker Hash, taking place that following Wednesday, and which DBB described as “a bunch of old people pissing on other old people.”
  • An Angry Brit down-down, which was more a thanks by DBB to the proprietor of our “new” on-in, which turns out is actually four-and-a-half years old.
  • Eager 4 Beaver, who did not run, for his “fancy pants” business casual civilian clothes.
  • Legal in Some States, who was outed by his virgin for wearing “new to the hash” shoes.
  • And one last down-down to Nick, the bartender, for, in Headlights’ words, “being an outstanding citizen, gentleman, and scholar.”

At about this time our food arrived, and we were treated to Chinese food rather than the standard pizza. There was a mad scramble to stock our plates with noodles, rice, and whatever else we could get our hands on. We drank until the hash cash ran out, and when I headed out into the cold night, there were still plenty of hashers left enjoying the warmth of the bar and each other’s company.

 

On-out,

 

Sorry, What?


Posted

in

by

Tags: