NYCH3 #1276
July 23, 2008
Hare: Jumpin’ Jack Gash
Start: 72nd and Central Park West
On In: Bar East
Scribe: Sorry, What?
It was a sizeable pack that showed up at 72nd and Central Park West for this hash, hared by our former JM Jumpin’ Jack Gash. Large hash packs aren’t an unusual phenomenon in the summer, of course, and certainly aren’t strange after we receive the sort of publicity we’ve been attracting of late. But it was a bit curious that, out of 50 or 60 of us gathered at the edge of Central Park, only two had never hashed before. Dedicated hashers? On a day on which thunderstorms were a constant threat? Curious, indeed!
Our hare must have thought so as well, since he looked a bit overwhelmed when he showed up to the start. After telling us we could only fit into the on-in in shifts—a claim that later proved false—he gave a cursory chalk talk and sent us on our way. Not, however, before begging for some bag hagging help—for which Mean Jean, wearing a lovely dress, happily volunteered.
The rest of us, dressed more like actual hashers, set off into the park. Not one minute later, we had gone completely off trail. Thanks to some fancy fence-hopping, we were soon back on track, but by then I had pretty much lost the majority of the pack, not to see them again until the on-in. Perhaps this is because I’m r*nning pretty slowly these days (recovering from an injury, you know – ok, maybe I’m just out of shape). Perhaps this is because it was so humid that r*nning fast would have been hard even if I wasn’t recovering from an injury (or out of shape). Or perhaps it’s because there were, oh, say, THREE CHECKS on the whole trail. The only time we actually stopped, in fact, was to retrace our steps after we blew past a mark. Still, I must commend JJG for his incorporation of shiggy into the trail: rocks, trees, and little hills through the trees.
After r*nning continuously in the park for a couple of miles – no checks, remember? – we exited somewhere in the east nineties, after which it was a fairly straight shot to the on in, Bar East. That’s right, in addition to having three checks, the trail lasted a total of 30 minutes – as r*n by me, the formerly injured hasher who is now just kind of out of shape.
The trail may not have been long, but the down downs were. They were awarded as follows:
1) Our hare, for a trail that was too long and had too many checks.
2) Mean Jean, in her lovely dress, for being too sexy for the hash. Mean Jean then proceeded to spill part of her down down on said lovely dress.
3) Virgin Eric, whose friend didn’t want to come so made him come instead (is that selfless or just sad?), and Virgin Suzanne, who came thanks to G-Dick. We also had a visitor from Baltimore whose name, I admit, I didn’t catch, who was being hosted by Gabe the Babe.
4) Boozer, for the following email, regarding a hash she visited (in Morocco, I believe): “This hash really knows how to run a circle. We could learn a thing or two from them.”
5) G-Dick, for extreme racism the previous weekend – a 100-miler in Vermont – and Just Dana, for being his crew.
6) I Have a Tiny Penis and It Smells Like Shit and Tinsel Dick, for being ashamed of their names. Tinsel Dick protested that he actually loves his name and was introducing himself to civilians when he was caught not using it.
7) I Have a Tiny Penis, yet again, for paying $19 hash cash, and Just Dan, for paying $19 and four quarters. Just Dan actually had to drink twice – his own fault for drinking during the song.
Two namings also occurred: 1) Fawn, who will now be known as Little Red Ride Me Hood, for being scared of some men who were following her while she was setting her first trail a few weeks ago. 2) Katie, who actually acquired a name while hashing in Atlanta: Barf Fly.
The circle concluded just as pizza arrived. And the long-awaited rain arrived, in torrential sheets, just when I was trying to leave.
On-out.