November 11, 2000 Full Moon Write-up
Hares: Heather "Got Wood" Malloy and Christine Hinz
Start: Columbus Circle
On-In: Ellen O'Dees
Scribe: Geoff Baldwin

The start was unusual. Not the place, which has been used many times before, but the time, 3pm on a Saturday. [Um, we hesitate to get involved in such things, but Geoff? The start was actually at 7:30 pm. That's why it was the Loser's Hash. Despite this one, minor error, readers should be assured that the rest of the write-up is as accurate as most hash write-ups.] Once only have I seen the full moon on a Greater Gotham full moon hash run [Here again, we hesitate to get involved, but Geoff? Try looking up at the next full moon hash.]. The management was obviously determined to prevent this from happening again, by ensuring that most runners would finish long before moonrise. Perhaps one consequence was a relatively small turn out. [Or that we were running on a Saturday night when even if we couldn't get a date, we wouldn't admit it by showing up at a hash.]

It is always a joy to run in Central Park, the territory is so forgiving. The hares can find a new twist every time and the runners can avoid it if they choose. There is the challenge of the glaciated rock outcrops, not so big that they cannot be gone round. Even the cross park road ditches, formidable defences by mediaeval standards, can be circumvented. Some shiggy can be found, but there is no need to get one's feet wet. So off we went, north by east.

The run is what the hounds make of it, the hares merely set the framework. Some hounds just stand around at a check and whimper while others lope off in the wrong direction, guided more by youthful exuberance than a keen appreciation of where the hares may have gone. Some get dispirited after fifty yards and slink back to join the idle pack. These hares used the open spaces of the park to stretch the checks into real challenges, but as always there were enough long ranging hounds to pick up the trail.

And so to the streets. The pack is constrained into chess board movements, out of site of the check and pondering whether the trail will be in another direction, unmarked and all to do again by yourself. No wonder the whimper-pack hangs back, despite that all it needs is a quarter to call for the on-in location if it should go astray. Where is the fun if all risk is taken out of life? Back down south we went, eventually along Park Avenue, nothing to do with the park, but named after a railroad engineer. The tracks from Grand Central lie underneath.

On in to Ellen O'Dees, surprisingly muted compared with the usual evening's raucous music. Hounds promptly fed the nickelodeon and it shrieked into life. Somewhere in the middle of the proceedings, Scot jumped me for the write-up [couldn't we find a more felicitous phrase?], but said I had four weeks to do it. The events of the hash now pale into insignificance compared with the irresolution of the presidential election. Four weeks on and Bush is claiming to be President-elect Apparent. This monarchist term fits circulating emails proclaiming the revocation of independence. The country has not been so divided since the second American civil war. [Second? Do you mean the War of Northern Aggression?]

First in was Dave Long, no crime on this hash, quickly followed by Scot, Janet, Evan, Steve Yoman, Anne Marie, Danny and Alice. Andrew, Sarah, Stacie, Eva, Diane and Nail Driver came too. Visiting down-downs were given to Horses Ass, Rhesus, Andrew, Sarah. Your scribe, Danny and Rhesus got punished for some arcane offence and of course the hares got theirs. Pierre sneaked in late with his bag but escaped attention. Scribe, Danny and Steve sulked away to taste single malt whisky. And then the moon rose, but we only saw it on the way home.