"It's 5AM on a Friday morning, and, boy, I'd rather be stoned." Doesn't that sound like a Billy Joel song? (EUWW!! Sleep deprivation is worse than drugs and fried eggs for your brain.) Besides the fact I can't stand Billy Joel, "stoned" is now a PC word. How about a Kris and Willie version, "It's 5AM on a Friday morning and buddy bet your ass I'd rather be drunk." Did I mention the fact that I'm on the Bed-Stuy/Bushwick border?--but then neither Billy, Kris, nor Willie have ever been here anyway (unless they were looking for Chuba on one of their early tours!)
Mind you I'm not complaining, I'm merely trying to describe: 1) the positive events from enlightenment by the BH3 Spiritual Advisor that led me to very full-time, well-paid employment that allow me to wear grunge to work five days a week (or anything else for that matter, 2) the fact that not only employment, but extensive hours of it have sort of sidelined my BH3 duties, and 3) just what the hell I'm going to do the keep sane until my 8:30AM meeting at a local "smart school" other than eat a big, greasy breakfast at a Spanish restaurant, and 4) why the hell I didn't write this up four weeks ago.
One reason may be that partially in the spirit of celebration--Stephen, Stacy, Roy, Geoff, and I stayed until "After Midnight" (another song reference? "We gonna let it all hang out--alk, talk, and suspicion, we gonna have an exhibition") and I later crashed at Stephen's house after eating Souvlaki [?I made that up, Jerry, but it's the only edible thing resembling whatever you scribbled] at 3AM at a local Greek diner, the 24-hour type. Which was followed by a significant snowfall the next day, through which I had to slop through to take a urine test--ut not just because I crashed at Stephen's. (I could have said "peed in a cup, but all of you would have said I do that anyway late at On Ins, or anywhere else for that matter.)
It's now a few hours over one week later. I'm now looking out of the window of HS 460 (John Jay) at the diner Stephen and I ate in. This is also the HS that Brooklyn native Alison Hope used to swim in, though whether it was with swimsuit or not, one can only use their imagination. I am on a sort of normal schedule this week, but suffering from a horrible cold, and trying to comprehend what jumping in the water off Manhattan Beach tomorrow will be like, and what it will do for my cold. But, back to this BH3 writeup [oh, yeah, I knew there was a reason I was reading this!]
This was to be one of my last Brooklyn runs for a while, and my On Sec was away out west in Willie's country on business, so I said I would do the writeup. I was met at the start by a Brooklyn virgin hasher, Mary, who said she lived in Cobble Hill and ran two NYCH3 runs and I believe one in DC. The turnout, due to a stretch of inclement weather, was due to be small, but that didn't keep Tiger's Woody Stacy, another Brooklyn resident, from also making her BH3 coming out party. Slow trains didn't help matters, so Paul set off those few that made it by 7:20. And off we went.
Joyce, John, and Geoff I believe were the latecomers (Oh, yes, Stacy was also, I believe she first went to the F-train Bergen Stop). Anyway, we were all together by the time we hit the Atlantic/Flatbush Avenues stop. We there found Devo staring at marks in shorts with a large backpack, muttering about visiting his girlfriend, but we all knew he was looking for a sale on goldfish, or a stomach pump.
The trail was a pleasant 40-minute A to B, ending up at Between the Bridges, which I had revisited the previous week to see if my running into the jukebox at the orphans Turkey Day Hash had worn out our welcome. HAIL NO. They even installed a smaller one on the wall out of range of drunken hashers, with more Doors and Skynard on it (and no Billy Joel). In fact they treated me so well I kept the place from closing early, thus beginning my "I'm starting work" celebration.
The beer flowed smoothly at the On In, to which Paul added gourmet food from the lovely ladies next door who keep promising to run with us. However, feeding a hash good food and feeding them until they are full is a fairly expensive ticket. Beer money ran out before our thirst, but that didn't keep us from bribing the bartender to party on into the night. We now know it didn't scare Mary off, as she returned for the next BH3 run, but late-staying Stacy mush have got the impression we always party that late, as she seems to be very busy on BH3 Monday nights lately. All in all, it was a great way to spend a snowy, slushy evening, early or late On In. On out.
Please note: The only particularly notable thing about the trail was that we found a new bar across from the YWCA. It should be a perfect bar for most male hashers, having good beer across from an SRO full of desperate women. NYCH3 take heed.
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