BH3 #444

BH3 Hash House Harriers

Run #444 / January 19, 2009

Hare: G-Dick

On In: Montero’s (Brooklyn Heights)

Scribe: D’Stink


It’s been so long since I’ve written a write-up—hell, it’s been forever since I’ve hashed in this city—that I hope I can record the events of the BH3’s latest using correct hashing lingo.  It’s the pack that gathers on the corner, right?


Yes, it’s all coming back to me.  What’s not coming back to me is why I volunteered to do this write-up.  Anyway, the pack gathered.  No one complained about the cold, but there were murmurs of “ice” and “trail?” as we looked around Court and Montague Streets in Brooklyn and wondered what magic capabilities G-Dick possessed that would enable him to set a readable trail after it had been snowing for the better part of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. 


In spite of the white, there were plenty of us hard-core hashers, folks who would never dare to call the hotline instead of retracing precious steps and solving the trail’s conundrums no matter the weather.  And there was one lone virgin. Who was wearing new sneakers.  But it’s not that he proudly displayed his new kicks, or unknowingly entered conversation about the shoe sale at Paragon.  I’m about to make a lousy transition here, so I’ll just cut to the trail and return to the predictable down-downs after I moan and groan about how long the trail was, how annoying it was to run on crunchy, packed-into-the-gravel-and-brick-roads snow in some of Brooklyn’s finer neighborhoods, and how the hint of a hill saved many of us, but I’m sure you can guess how it turned out for new-shoe virgin and the “friend” that made him cum. 


First, the story of the trail:


G-Dick falsely told us the trail was less than three miles.  “I wanted to make it seven,” he said.  “I had the perfect trail planned,” he went on to say during the circle, but thank God for that snow because his “under three” was actually 3.8 according to Legal in Some States’ watch, so it’s safe to assume his seven would have been a neat nine.


Bird seed was used as a trail marker, but G-dick didn’t provide any of that for his pack; instead, he offered one piece of chalk and set us off.  “Stay together,” he cautioned.


Stay together we did, like one big, Brooklyn family.  When we lost trail, we remembered the hill. 


“There’s only one big hill in Brooklyn,” AARPenis claimed, and FMIG confirmed her claim.  We found that hill and ran the length of the promenade, or was it the other way around?  I was feet-focused, trying not to fall face-first into pee-soaked snow, so no, I didn’t see the Obama/Bush dolls in the window that G-Dick eagerly asked us about when we triumphantly arrived at the on-in.  Well, it was triumphant for some of us.


Another called the hotline, and a couple others followed the message.  Blackout received a down-down for the call, while Screaming O and Yours Truly drank for following along. 


The hare, the virgin, and the visitor received their expected down-downs, and friend of the virgin drank out of the new shoe for being a tattle-tail.  This is old news by now, folks.  It’s not fun to write about, but it’s still kind of fun to watch.


A couple people from the pack were inappropriately dressed: Legal in Some States and Liz.  I know you both have nice legs, but c’mon, it’s chilly out in these parts in January!


Canine Fixation and someone else were also forced to drink some crappy beer.  And for crappy beer (Brooklyn: better beer hash—anyone? Anyone?), hash cash ran out way too soon.  Sure, the pizza was good—upside down pie is making me salivate right now, in fact—but what’s the point of killer pizza if there’s no beer to wash it down with?  Boo!  Instead of trying to rename G-Dick, Cockatu, or something equally lame (this, the joint effort of FMIG and Headlights), we could have chosen something more appropriate like Lightweight, since G-Dick seemed to be the only one unperturbed by hash cash’s brief appearance.