Special #68 – Recovery R*n for the 43rd NYC Marathon
Start: Motor City Bar
On-In: Bushwick Country Club
Hares: Ding! and Jin-Jin (hashspace relatives include Jinx, Jingle Balls, Jinkies I'm Shwasted, Jingle Pants, and Jingle Jizz)
Scribe: Cheeky Bastard
Live trails really do get the blood going. Nothing like roaring off down Delancey Street, over the Williamsburg Bridge, and through the streets of Billyburg in search of runaway chalkophiles with Superglued shorts. Speed was key, and I hustled through traffic, up bridges, beyond falses, and all about in my attempt to pick off the hares. I was rewarded, catching Ding! about a half mile from the on-in. Luck was on my side, for had I been less swift of foot, I would've been trapped with most others on…THE TRAIL WITH NO PACK MARKS! Mwa-ha-ha! For this, the hares were lambasted by each new arrival, for providing little if any useable drywall, placing marks acres apart, etc., but these concerns were soothed by beer. An amazing substance. And so we drank it for these down-downs:
– Hares: Ding! and Jin-Jin, who were savaged in the pre-circle news conference, but apparently all the venom had been spent by the time of our convening
– Accomplices: Just Nicole, Skidmark, and a Splat! for good measure
– Visitors: Village Tool, from San Diego. Regaled us with a song about boobies
– Village Tool again, for quipping “Where'd that old man go?” on trail. There's a few of them, and “old British man” doesn't help either. Specificity, my boy.
– Virgins: Susan, who had her down-down courageously drank by Ivory Dickler, who made her cum. Is this some kind of hashing loophole?
– The hares again, for scrawling a less-than-complete pronouncement at a check: “Meet you bar”. Really, saving up that 'at the' for a rainy day? Or perhaps you meant “Nice to meet you, bar”. But there was no bar there. Silly. What about “Meet you, barring another rapture/earthquake/hurricane-type event?” Now I'm starting to see why they were so brief…
– Noah's Dinghy, for Houdini-ing his way on to trail, showing up out of nowhere with his bag in tow
– Rack n Roll Her: bandited trail. Bridges and arrows and checks, oh my! She really cavorted about the Williamsburg countryside
– Cheeky Bastard: for my death wish, doing my best Frogger impression near the start, and dodge, dive, dip, duck and dodge-ing my way through Williamsburg Bridge traffic to snag me a hare. And it worked, for Ding! joined me on account of his being caught
– Headlights and Kai: technology on trail. Unfortunately, it did not involve her high-beams, but probably did involve a Kai-phone
– Overachievers: Just Katie, VT, Kai, Ivory Dickler. For running the marathon, and then the trail the next day. They like to go above, beyond, and beyond again. And for this, we tried to push them beyond the limits of their sobriety
– I tried to target Drippy Sac, but I changed it mid-accusation into something nonsensical, and it backfired as another down-down for me (huzzah!).
My slight embarrassment was dispelled by Headlights, claiming that Barnacle, a notorious race-ist, was a literal one, too. In his eyes (you'll see the irony), Drippy Sac fell under that oldest of Asian stereotypes: good eyesight, which allowed him to dial his smartphone's font down to miniscule proportions. “So Asian, he can read that tiny print”? If you'll read Drippy's own AGM coverage, you'll know we don't even have any Asians at the hash. That was a bombshell I dropped, almost as large as the virtual shotgun shells Headlights dropped in Big Buck Safari. Or was it Big Buck Hunter? Either way, she also visited the photobooth, and once hash cash was out, I 'developed' a way home. On-out!