May 10, 2010
Start: Jefferson St. on the L
On-In: Cozy Corner, Ridgewood, Queens
Scribe: Canine Fixation
The sinking feeling in my stomach came almost immediately as I saw the QHHH written in the start mark. As people gathered in preparation, everyone was in agreement that nothing good could come of this. The hare eventually showed up in his usual cheery demeanor, muttering about having difficulty finding a car service, which did nothing allay people’s fears. After telling us that there were no false trails (the hare had obviously been hard at work haring), the hare set us off into the wilderness that is Bushwick.
The trail took us west, east, and north, although mainly north, through the lush warehouses of northern Brooklyn, over a bridge, and into the suburbia of Ridgewood. There being no falses, the pack became fairly spread out, but everyone eventually made it to the on-in at Cozy Corner. Since the patrons of the bar had their precious league pool tournament to attend to, we were shoved into the back banquet room, which was fine and dandy with us. The beer selection left much to be desired (pitchers of Miller and Coors), which just goes to show why it’s always better in Brooklyn. However, the sheer quantity that was purchased for just $15 hash cash was enough to placate the crowd.
Down-downs were administered as such:
- The hare – Smashmouth. Queens hash is dead.
- The hare again – For taking the pack through such terrains containing such lovely things as trains, broken toilets, and dead animals.
- Nads on Film – For helping with bags, but deciding to leave because we were outside of his precious Brooklyn. Barnacle was the substitute down-downee (and the dirty r*cist drank water)
- Fast American Dave – For being fast and having chalk, but not marking checks.
- Tit Totaller – For going into the men’s bathroom.
- Fire in the Piehole – For checking into FourSquare immediately upon entering the on-in. Down-down was also given to Just Mike due to his passing resemblance to Eager4Beaver, who we all know would have beaten FitP to the punch.
- Facial Discrimination – For getting his goo on Death Breast’s shirt.
- Ivory Dickler – For trying to sexify up the hash by dimming the lights.
- Splat! – DFL.
After the pizza arrived and was quickly devoured, the pack started glancing nervously at their subway maps trying to figure out how to get the hell out of Queens. Although the pitchers were still flowing, I left around 9:30, not wanting to be one of the stragglers having to brave the streets alone.