Run #159 November 30, 1998
Hare: Alice Harrison
Start: Clark Street Station (the subway stop)
On In: Clark Street Station (the bar)
Scribe: Janet Slobodien
We actually gathered at a tree (yes, they do grow in Brooklyn) across the street from the subway exit in the heart of Brooklyn Heights. The possibilities for the trail were limitless, until the owner of the bar several feet away came out to the street to discuss money with Alice. Astute trail detectives that we are, we took that as a clue. We happily offered to help the foiled hare with our bags, but when we tried to put them in their assigned corner inside, a hideous beast (referred to as a dog) poked its humongous head out of a blanket on the floor. Then a terrible old woman (identified as the owner's mother) barked unhelpful warnings at us. We reluctantly hid our bags in another corner and took off running, not sure whether we really wanted to return.
In any case, it was a clear November night of about 75 degrees, so we figured we might as well go for a run. It was a good thing we remembered where the trail started and ended, though, because there was little sign of that ever-important middle section. Ok, it was a perfectly lovely trail and it was marked, but we're an insecure bunch who could use a bit more encouragement then an arrow every three blocks or so. Insecure or not, we're well trained, so almost the entire trail was re-done in pack marks. Perhaps we should just do a sort of reverse hash, in which the pack sets the trail together and then hangs out at a bar while one lucky hare runs through it in about twenty minutes. The trail was all pretty close together and hit all the hotspots from Fulton Ferry Landing south across Atlantic and over to Court Street. Surprisingly, Brent and Jean got their first view of Manhattan from the Promenade--surprising because all hashes within two miles are required to go over there and those two hashers are required to run all hashes within thirty miles of their home.
When we returned to the bar, Mom the bartender had left and a 50-lb. bag of horse feed had been delivered to our section. This was either for Spike, the beast in the corner, or it was our dinner. It would have been more nutritious than the semi-stale bagel I gnawed on while everyone else enjoyed Pad Thai. Then again, virtually anything goes better with bottles of Brooklyn Lager. Joyce was given a down-down for brushing her teeth before the hash, forcing Paul to leave home ahead of her in order to arrive in time for the start. Way to keep your priorities, Paul. Pierre continues to drink for his new hair. This should indicate the general feelings about personal grooming on the hash.
Religion and hashing seem to be flourishing, however. We had a down-down for our newest Brooklyn virgin, Jim the priest. (Stop giggling, Brent, virginity and celibacy are two different things.) Jim even offered the use of his parish gym, basketball court, etc., for the hash (Alice, not satisfied, demanded a sauna). I must say I didn't know priests were so cool. As it turns out, precursors of the red dress run can actually be traced back to the Vatican hash. Jim was also welcomed in fellowship by our own Cardinal O'Connor, seen whispering with him for quite a while-I believe confession was involved.
I can't recall seeing or hearing Keith at all on the trail (hmm), but he actually stuck around for a while at the on in, and dispensed advice to Pierre, a victim? of check fraud. In other financial news, I have to report that the hare was caught trying to sell $15 sweatshirts from another NYC hash to us for $17. She seemed to forget that the Brooklyn hashers are a lot of the same people who actually go to her Wack Wednesday runs. Regardless of the fact that I had just willingly sucked up bottles of beer for $5 a piece and got no food, we don't take that kind of price gouging here, chick! All of these events should teach us to keep our eyes peeled, for evil may be lurking in even the most familiar corners.
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