NYCH3 #1375

 

NYCH3 #1375

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Hares: Death Breast & Technically Foul

Start: northwest corner of Union Square Park

Scribe: Just KC

Last Wednesday’s Hash can be described in one word:  HOT.  Oh wait, Humid.  No, wait, Sweaty!

It began in Union Square on an 85+ degree day.  Before knowing it, we’re in Chelsea.  What do you call west of Chelsea?  Wechelsca? Is too un-PC to say chic GAY-ville?  Y’all don’t believe in PC!

Suddenly and mercifully a couple of chalk arrows point toward an indoor and air-conditioned paradise where no running was allowed.  Was all too tempted by cupcakes, the new Anthropologie, and a fountain that looked only a little too dangerous to stick my head under.  Emerging, someone speedy presented me with two options: to run the highland park or to take a shortcut.  I’m not going to tell you what I decided . . .
We carried on-on to even gay-er ville- a part of the city so adorable, my sweaty butt felt like an eye-sore.

 Panting down to the west village- by now I am so hot and thirsty and sweat is getting all over my eye-balls.  At the same time, I’m thinking how very attractive this run has been, about my new favorite neighborhood- delectable gayest-ville,  and that whoever made the trail must be pretty fuckin’ trendy.

Running though Washington square park- reminiscing about smoking weed in college- right by that tree there- best quad ever.    Who ran through the fountain?  For some reason I didn’t- I think there was a concert in the way.  Down LaGuardia- getting lost but there’s safety in numbers.  we found our way noooo problem.  I was no help- my mouth was far too dry to even utter an on-on.

By the time we reached china town I’m delirious.  It’s toooooo hot!  I very seriously considered swiping a bottle of water off a baby in a stroller.  I mean, I’m running, what could the baby really do?  Luckily the Beer Near appeared and the baby was spared.  I don’t remember the name of the bar either but wow it was cool- again, uber-trendy trail-setter being awesome.   Tons of fun in the bar, great sesame-seed pizza, everyone in their sweet new shirts.  One complaint: my favorite foreskin song was not sung at the meeting. Barry gave me a private serenade later.


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