AGM, NYCH3 #1424

NYCH3 AGM – April 30, 2011

Start:    The Parlour, 86th St & Broadway
On-In:    The Parlour, 86th St & Broadway
Hares:    The Parlour, 86th St & Broadway  The NYCH3 Committee
Scribe:    The Parlour, 86th St & Broadway  Speedo Gonzalez

“All things must end.”  This quote is sometimes attributed to Aristotle, sometimes to Lao Tsu, even Shakespeare tried to claim it for himself.  It is sometimes heard on trail at the Hash, especially if it’s one of Copa’s trails.  But in fact, this quote was actually first spoken by Spock in Star Trek 6, which was the one where Red Foreman was the President and Christopher Plummer & Kim Cattrall were the villains.  And there were five more films after that, so really, I guess that’s a bad example.

Or perhaps not.  For surely as winter becomes spring and the great ideas of last night turn into the headaches of this morning, the Annual General Meeting (hot tip:  this is what AGM stands for!) is both the end of one year’s Hashing and the start of the next.  Even the trail itself served to illustrate this, as it ended up right back where it started. 

After a pre-beer or two at The Parlour, we took off east towards Central Park.  There we clambered through as much shiggy as central Manhattan had to offer, disrupting picnicking couples, leaping over rocks and those little tiny Ziplocs that only ever hold drugs, and getting as hopelessly lost as it is possible to in what is essentially a giant planter in the middle of the most densely-populated island in the hemisphere.  We nearly left the park, before Pimpy Longstocking held up his hands and called, “Wait!”  Somehow, we had missed the beer!  And so we retraced our steps, sniffing the air like alcoholic bloodhounds, disrupting more tourists and what had probably been planned as a very romantic proposal, until at last finding our promised beer.  And then, only when it was gone, did we leave the park and run right back to the bar where we started, to drink even more, and get our hands on some cool new orange tee-shirts. 

Down-downs were awarded to:
–    The Hares and the Drink Check crew, because they were the ones responsible.
–    The Visitors, whose identities have been lost to time, drink, and not writing names down.  One was from the Samurai Hash, and one wasn’t. 
–    The Virgins, who will learn they need to come a few times before anyone’s ever going to remember their names.  Really, you need to be here for like a year.
–    Rack’n’Roll Her, whose loyalty to FC Barcelona outweighed her responsibility to chalk-talk and get the pack going.
–    Got Wood, who, when lost on trail, said “There are some fat runners over there!  That’s the pack!”  Way to not help at all with our body image issues.  We’re trying, damn it.
–    Doggie Erectus & Splat, who had the great idea of setting a “Beer False” instead of the traditional Drink Check … without accounting for the possibility that the pack would find the real trail first.
–    Pimpy Longstocking, who demonstrated fine leadership qualities by turning the pack around so that we would find the Beer False.
–    Pimpy again, for welcoming a newcomer to the Hash.  The only problem was that this “newcomer” had been Hashing since Pimpy was 8 years old, so, whoops.  Congrats, you’re the Asshole Of The Week!

That covered Saturday’s trail.  But this wasn’t just about Saturday, this was about the entire year!  “All good things” and everything else I was blathering about in the open!  And so awards must be given!
–    Copa Cum Bloody’s Columbia Catastrophe was the runaway winner of Worst Trail of the Year.  7+ miles in monsoon conditions.  And then how did he make amends with his next trail?  Setting another 7-miler.  This double whammy beat out Technically Foul & Porno Putz’s downtown 7-miler, which also featured a missed drink check (because everyone had quit on the trail before then) and then bad porn on the on-in’s TV screens.
–    Evan & Rachel won Couple of the Year, for staying together even though Evan would ditch her so that he could run faster at the end of trails.  You know she loves you when she sticks around despite your crippling Racism.  They beat out Joe Pennsylvania & Hot Rod, who actually got in real life married; Red-Headed Steve and the United States of America, who are back together following Steve’s brief affair with the UK; and Splat & Doggie Erectus, who I can’t remember why they were called up, I believe I deliberately drank that memory away.
–    And Stewa won the coveted Asshole Of The Year award, for knocking over people in wheelchairs.  Well done, sir.  Drinking in his place was Dogface, because Stewa escaped and grumpy Englishmen are apparently interchangeable.  He beat Evan, nominated for his aforementioned girlfriend-ditching; and Headlights, the unrepentant litterbug whose eco-terrorist handiwork is visible to this very day on the HashNYC website.

And … oh, you thought we were done?  My friends, we are never done.  For – again, this is referring back to all the blather in the first two paragraphs, it did have a point – as one year ends, a new year begins, and with that new year comes a new Committee!  A whole new set of faces to blame for setting up your weekly entertainments!  Of course, by “whole new” I mean “remarkably familiar.”  It’s a bit like Taco Bell, where all the new products are made by slightly re-arranging the few pre-existing ingredients.  Here are your 2011 Meat Products:
–    Voice of the Hash:  Ahoy The Wanker
–    Fluffers:  Rack’n’Roll Her, Trips & Balls, Fireman Tim, and No That’s Not My Baby
–    Hash Flash:  Speedo Gonzalez
–    Haberdashers:  Ow My Balls and Ding
–    On Sex:  Doggie Erectus & Finger Fucked
–    Hareraiser:  Copa Cum Bloody
–    Hash Cash:  Eager 4 Beaver
–    Trailmaster:  Wet Willy
–    Religious Advisers:  Fire In The Piehole and Fast American Dave
–    Joint Masters:  Tit-Totaler and Pimpy Longstocking.

These are the people at whom you should direct all further ire.  In the meantime, I’m going to find a way to drink off this hangover.

On on!


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