March 1, 2010
Start: Smith & Carroll Street
On-In: Double Windsor
I arrived late to the start, to see a small pack take off. After catching up to them at the first check we wandered around Carroll Gardens and then over the BQE to the lovely and not at all sketchy at night neighborhood of Red Hook. Surprisingly there was no meatball and ligonberry jam check at IKEA, in fact we didn’t even get near the behemoth, instead going through parks and back under the BQE, over the Gowanus, through Park Slope and finally skirting Greenwood Cemetery we made our way to the hot and trendy, new(ish) bar The Double Windsor.
There was much chatting and enjoyment of fantastic brews. Down downs were administered as follows.
- The hare: Splat (well done, well done indeed)
- Trips N’ Balls: Poor thing was frightened of the big, scary cemetery (you’d think she’d be used to smelly, creepy people considering how long she’s been hashing)
- Smashmouth: After all his b*tching about hashes starting late, guess who showed up late? (granted, I did as well, but at least I don’t moan about it)
- Just Mel & Death Breast: These two decided to wear matching D-tags to prove they’re raceists (not that we needed any further proof)
- Splat: For doing four hashes in four days (Strongest Liver Award! Hurrah!)
- Hedgehog: He incorrectly marked a check, causing Headlights and Just Mel to go almost a whole block out of their way (hey, that made me get to the beer almost a minute later than I would have otherwise!) (ed: The false marking was actually me. Hedgehog still got the down-down. My bad. -CF)
- Barnacle: For not shutting up about Canada and some sport they apparently invented that involved ice and skates and something called a puck (seriously, can we just let it go already?)
Pizza came and was enjoyed. Beer was also enjoyed (in abundance). I left fairly early, but I imagine hash cash lasted well into the night and that everyone had life changing conversations and at least one person got naked. I have no proof of these musings, but it’s what I’d like to think happened.
Until next week and the next hangover, On On.