You ever wear your fingers raw scratching at the shallow recesses of your brain as it cues your liver to suck at the body's innumerable cells in search of valuable trace molecules of vitamin B in an effort to fill the deficiency left behind after a night of lying in an alcoholic torpor resulting from a Greater Gotham Full Moon Hash? Well then maybe you should try your hand at doing a writeup of one of the monthly Friday night hashes. I'm lying in bed Saturday morning after the running of the G2FMH3 "Sap Moon" hash and I don't know what I'm using to type right now, but it would appear that my brain has atrophied and feels like a honeydew left in the middle of Herald Square on a typically hot August afternoon; my fingers have been transformed into half-eaten, overcooked Hormel link sausages yellowed with decay; and something is exuding the fetid stench of week-old vacant human containers abandoned for a `57 Edsel drafting behind the Hale-Bopp comet around Turn 4 at Daytona. But enough about me, tell us about the trail and the On-In, Papa Smurf.
With my sinuses filled with what felt like molasses that night, I actually decided not to attempt running the trail and contemplated walking it with perhaps a few key shortcuts granted by the hare. A small pack of about 15 gathered for the poorly advertised hash. Andy's soon-to-be-but-may-already-be-considered Better Half, Betsy, showed up to start us off. Unfortunately, she had no idea where trail went and was only able to tell me the On-In location. So be it. As the pack headed north on Varick, I slapped on my Walkman and was on my way to perhaps the best shortcut ever. I headed west on Houston toward my office on the corner at Hudson where I spent a good 2 seconds solving my own check: deciding from which corner to cross. From there I went down Hudson to Spring where I found the On-In even though it was not marked. Great trail. Hashing is easy. I know I'm not the first to have hashed with a Walkman--Steve Brett did the same thing sometime last year--but I think I might have been the first hasher to complete trail in four minutes while smoking a cigarette. Anyone with tobacco industry contacts? I sure could use the sponsorship. [Editor's Note: I have since made a valiant, and marginally successful, attempt to quit smoking, so if anyone knows of some shoe company that would want to make the Air Fong All-Terrain Hash Sneaker . . .]
Betsy showed up at the On-In a little later right in the middle of the "Wheel of Fortune" schooling I was giving the regulars at the Emerald. (Topic: "Practical Joke." Answer: "Pull my finger.") I learned that since she didn't have any chalk, she marked the On-In location at the start with some spare vitamin C she found in the hashmobile. If I had known of her predicament I would have gladly loaned her my spraycan of black primer that I carry around because I like to see the word "Nipple" painted on a wall every once in a while when I'm not huffing on that aerosol bad boy.
Andy strolled in a little later and informed me of his trail. Apparently, the trail noodled around in the West Village a little bit before heading up to 9th Street. It then moved toward Washington Square Park but didn't go in. From there he went into Little Italy and SoHo, brought the trail perilously close to the St. Patrick's Day trail from the previous Sunday, dropped down to Canal where he toyed around in the little back alleys down by the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel, and then shot everybody over to the West End Highway Promenade from which they were supposed to come in, albeit rather circuitously, from there. Sounded long to me, but Andy assured me that there were enough checks to keep it interesting. Allison and Noelle, being the first ones in after dashing about for 75 minutes and finally calling the hotline, tallied the number of checks at 14 before giving up. Impressive, indeed.
The rest of the pack rolled in within two hours of the start . . . save but Geoff (more on that later--hunh hunh, I said "moron.") Down downs were dispensed to the hare, visitors Donna ("Crabtree") and Steve ("Just Steve") from the NY hash [Editor's Note: I met Crabtree and Just Steve for the first time at a hash in Colorado Springs last summer just before they were to embark on an Orienteering expedition. Good people. Get to know them.], numerous civilians--almost more than were hashers and a special down down for Giovanni ("Spanish Fly") for showing up with every intent to hash but being unable to find the start and so appearing at the On-In dressed as though he had run. The apparitions of Dave Byron-Brown and Alison also materialized, but before I could take the pleasure of giving DBB a civilian down down, they disappeared. Who's got my can of primer?
The evening continued without a hitch and everyone was seated at tables respectably scarfing down the ziti and chicken fingers off of real plates and using silverware (John O'Connor was even using both his knife and fork in beauteous unison) when in came Geoff a mere 2 hours and 10 minutes off the start. Seems he looped back onto the trail and didn't realize this until he was halfway through it again. Curious, since he was last spotted by several of the frontrunning hashers at the last check on trail. I guess he checked from there back to the start. Now there's a true hasher, Geoff. Screw the surroundings and noticeable landmarks, just keep the head down and looking for trail. Rumor has it that Geoff will be mushing in this year's Iditarod and is looking for people who will pull the sled with him. I would recommend Peter since he demonstrated strong hashing fortitude by running with his bag because he showed up at the start after the hashmobile left. I'm certainly not volunteering as I still have what feels like a muskrat running around in my lungs.
Like I said before, "Great trail." Try not to let it happen again. On-Out.
Because You Probably Weren't Paying Attention
The new 1997-98 Mismanagement for the G2FMH3 is as follows: Grand Mistress: Marian Konop Joint Masters: Betsy Donovan & Andy Raybould On-Sec: Curtis Fong Hare Raiser: Mike Hoffman
What does each title mean?
Hare Raiser recruits hares for upcoming hashes. If you want to set
a G2FMH3 trail, talk to Mike. He's the skinny guy with the brown
curly hair who looks like an overpulled Stretch Armstrong. If you
don't want to set a G2FMH3 trail, avoid Mike.
On-Sec (the most thankless job in any hash) maintains written
record of the hash, manages the writeups, and distributes a wealth of
hashing information to the masses via print media and over electronic
mail. If you have any announcements you would like put into print and
distributed at the monthly Full Moon Hash or if you want to guest
scribe a Full Moon Hash, talk to Curtis. He's the tall Ornamental
fellow who probably handed you this writeup. If you don't want to
guest scribe a Full Moon Hash, act totally illiterate in front of me.
Joint Masters embody all the spirit of the Hash and are, for lack
of a better term, the Head Hashers In Charge. Some hashes in the
world suck because their joint masters are astonishingly stupid
people. Betsy and Andy probably won't suck as joint masters. In
fact, I have much faith that the G2FMH3 is going to kick some serious
ass under their {ahem} guidance. If you want to do a down-down, talk
to Betsy or Andy. They're the adorable couple who occasionally
cross-dress.
Grand Mistress is the ignoble title (self-)bestowed upon, and
desperately clung to by, Marian. She keeps insisting she founded the
G2FMH3 and nobody has disputed it. Many have tried, but nobody has
bested our Champion in the Ring of Battle yet, so whatever Marian
says, goes. She lays a hell of a trail, so I won't argue. If you
want your shirt removed, see Marian. She's the one removing everyone
else's shirts.
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