{On Sec's Note: Admittedly, I've been remiss in performing my write-up duties and so have been forced to rely upon others to scribe for me. In what is proving to be a ludicrous tradition, I again let the hare act as the scribe for his/her own trail. I assume no responsibility.}
BEST TRAIL OF THE YEAR Award goes to Yoshi and Mike after their brilliant trail engineering and bar selection! A well-marked trail, a great bar with atmosphere and cheap prices for top-line beer, and an On-On-In set up weeks in advance; all this far a paltry $3 Hash Cash. We definitely must see that these two set more trails together!!!
For those of you who didn't participate in the festivities, you can put this write-up down and walk away depressed that you missed such a great event.
For those that are continuing to read, stop looking so confused! If the President and his, dare I say, slut of a girlfriend can get away with bald-faced lies, than why shouldn't Yoshi and I? {Did Mike just compare himself and Yoshi to Bill and Monica? I don't want to know.}
Friday the 13th never bodes well for any activities, planned or unplanned. A 30th Birthday on the horizon always spells doom for the person heading up that hill. Setting a trail after a full day of work is usually one of the tougher jobs in the Hash. Finding an uncrowded bar on a Friday night on the East Side in Midtown in near impossible. Add a "theme" to the run and you have the ingredients for disaster.
The first sign of trouble was getting to the Start at 3 minutes to 7 and finding not a soul around. By 7:05, there was a large crowd of one: me. For a few seconds, I considered that Yoshi had told everyone to forgo the run and just meet at the On-In, but then, why did he help set the trail? Crofty's appearance broke that reverie and I was informed of two slight problems. First was that we ran the trail past the subway exits, so people might start following the trail thinking they were being led to the Start. Second, the Hotline was directing people to the corner of 24th and 8th, not 25th and 8th. The fact that the Start was NOT an intersection but a real address (300 8th Ave) seemed to not matter much.
Eventually about 14 adventurous Hashers were gathered waiting for us to send them on their way. Seems this select group was made up of people fitting into three categories: no significant other, significant other is out of town, or no holiday on Monday. The regular Full Moon Hashers must have found lives at some point in the recent past. Hailing a cab, I was thankful that we had such a small load of bags.
The run took them around the streets of Chelsea, back and forth between 8th Ave and 10th Ave. Along the way, they braved wild packs of kids in the apartment complexes, saw a seedier side of NYC, and were able to admire a fine specimen of early 16th Century sculpture. Coming along 34th Street, the pack seems to have missed the second check (which was still there two days later!), choosing instead to run onward with no marks in sight. What an inspired group this was! Not sure how long they pursued this impossible task, but, eventually, one or two circled back and found the trail heading through Madison Square Garden, just in time for the Milrose games. Security was heard trying to direct the Hash towards their rightful place on the track, but no beer was served in the Garden that night, so the hashers continued on their merry way.
Continuing through a parking garage and then down 7th Ave, the pack began to split apart. A check at Broadway quickly brought them together again. Over to 30th St and 5th Ave, the chickens decided to head downtown while the eagles headed North, back to 34th St. A special mark in front of Oxford was placed to assist Roy in finding his way to work on Monday, which seemed wasted as Roy wasn't even present at the start. In and out of the Tunnel entrance on 2nd Ave, the fourth check was found back on 34th St. Thus began the 1/2 mile trek down 2nd Ave. to 24th Street where a turn West led directly to the last check. Here the chickens joined up, or should have had the chicken trail been a little longer, and all came directly in to Caliban on 3rd Ave at 26th Street.
Caliban was a recent find (three days previous) and looks to be a nice relaxing place to enjoy a pint (20 oz Imperials) or two, a juicy extra large burger, and the company of your fellow "artsy" friends. Of course, that will be in the future. For the present, they are just finding their niche and were probably not expecting this run-down sweated-up crowd of loud runners to mix with their few "regulars" (how regular can you be when the place has only been open for a couple of weeks?). The atmosphere was pleasant, from the all wood decor to the watercolor paintings on the wall (for sale between $450 and $800). Overall, it reminded both Yoshi and I of a "classy" Queens pub. The bartender and owner were a bit overwhelmed by the crowd, but eventually settled down to business and smoothly handled the orders for water and beer.
Pizza was delivered around 9:00 (the burgers were a bit pricey at $7.50) and quickly devoured. Down Downs were given out by Jerry. Is it just me or has Jerry taken a liking to inflicting punishment on others? Yoshi and I were stuck there for two rounds. Some virgins and visitors were introduced. Finally I was called upon for another for my Birthday. Hating to drink along, I grabbed an older looking man and assisted him to the front. After giving his walker to his much younger girlfriend, he told me that he was just turning 40 and that this is what I could expect 10 years from now. The horror, the horror...
Hash Cash ran dry around 10:30, so the younger crowd decided to drag me out for another blast down on 3rd Ave. No one seemed to know exactly where the intended destination was located, so we sent out a search party, armed with chalk. A headstart of 10 minutes seemed sufficient and we set out after them. The mystery was soon solved when we discovered that the bar in question has been masquerading as the often used PugUglies. A note to future Hares: Pugs has undergone a change for, in my opinion, the better. The shuffleboard court is still there, but the pews are gone, replaced with a dartboard and a pool table. For those of you cringing right now: Too Bad; Welcome to the 90s!
By the time we left, the moon had set, Friday the 13th was no longer, the couples had paired off, and the men were being led home by their women to begin celebration of the Hallmark created holiday when men must show their appreciation that ANY women would put up with their shit. In response to the question: "When is the Men's holiday", my girlfriend responded "Every other damn day of the year", which we all know is a just another bald-faced lie...
On Out.
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