January 10th's run was a fitting millennial début (like the " ' " thing?) for the BH3. The trail began at Borough Hall. It was a nippy evening in lower Brooklyn. The crew gathered at the start was mostly comprised of Brooklyn die-hards. The turnout was a respectable dozen, perhaps limited by the inclement weather, or the fact that Hare Kanaga had also set the preceding Sunday's hash in Queens and other folks had already learned their lesson. The starting location made for an ominous start for the evening's run: to what degree would Mr. Kanaga avail himself of the surroundings? The Brooklyn Bridge was a few hundred paces away, as were Brooklyn Heights, Metro Tech, several housing projects, Fort Greene, and the wilds of lower Flatbush. Realizing we were in Keith's hands, we all discreetly made sure we had a quarter tucked away in our running clothes somewhere should the necessity arise.
It may have been the start of a new millennium, but as far as Mr. Kanaga was concerned, times hadn't changed that much - he was going to prove himself a traditionalist. In keeping with what Brooklyn Hashers were accustomed to in the 20th century, Mr. Kanaga's run was characterized by an adequately, nearly, or almost-nearly-adequately-marked trail winding through the fairly safe quarters of lower Brooklyn. The first check, at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge, sent us chasing. It was in fact a master check: we knew Keith didn't go over the bridge, Keith knew we'd know he didn't go over the bridge, and yet we still ended up dashing ¼ of the way to Manhattan across the damn bridge. About 10 minutes later, we finally found the trail, leading off towards Fort Greene.
Then came Fort Greene Park. He wouldn't make fools of us a second time, we thought. And sure enough, we lost the trail, we lost our cool, and even lost Geoff Baldwin. Somebody claimed to have seen him heading towards Metro Tech back near the bridge. There were other, more favorable runs during which to get lost - Mr. Kanaga had led us through some less-than-Mr. Roger's-caliber neighborhoods. At this point, however, we were more determined to find the On-In than Mr. Baldwin. Having overcome the obstacles posed by the formidable Mr. Kanaga, we were ready for a few beers. We had only lost one person at this point, inferring a survival rate of about 92% for the crew (surely better than average for Keith's runs). And given that the MIA in question was only Geoff, our moral success was far higher. We wanted to celebrate. Visions of Scotch Ale, Brooklyn Weissebier, and Redhook Lager displaced the sugarplum faeries then dancing in our heads (recall, this was just after the holidays). Following the trail with intensity, we arrived cold but refreshed at Mr. Kanaga's canteen of choice: O'Connor's Bar, not far from BAM.
Well, at first blush O'Connor's Bar was a daunting venue: the windowless, black interior was filled with creaky barstools. Old chairs neon signs and assorted detritus were stacked in great piles in the corners. The tables in the booths were deeply etched. The Scotch Ale, Brooklyn Weissebier, and Redhook Lager would have to remain visions - the reality consisted of Bud, Rolling Rock and Heineken bottles. We thought it strange that O'Connor's bar had been voted "Best Brooklyn Bar" per several NY Free Press readers' polls. At least that's what the plaques on the walls indicated. I was tempted to check for a watermark on the parchments.
As the evening progressed, however, the dark and dank O'Connor's Bar became a compelling place. Someone remarked that Iggy Pop, old Johnny Cash, vintage Billy Holiday and new Schonen Knife were in the Juke box. We soon realized that the place had become quite busy, filling with a hip, dressed-in-black Brooklyn crowd. This place had character after all. It was suggested that we should consider going out to look for Geoff Baldwin. We gave it a long, good thought and decided that it was the appropriate thing to do, and that right after the last of our selections were up on the juke box and we'd finished that timely round of drinks, we'd organize a vote to determine who would go out and look for Mr. Baldwin. Luckily, not three songs later Geoff came striding through the door. In fact, we had been confident all along that he'd find us. We knew Geoff wouldn't miss a Brooklyn On-In - especially the first of the new millennium. It may indeed have been a new era, but again, times hadn't changed that much.
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