NYCH3 Run# 828 Annual NYCH3 Red Dress Run Hares: Chris Donkey Dong Troise, Jimmy Akhbari & Rick Lab Rat Chann Start: (Just up the road from) Bull McCabe’s, St. Marks Place On-In: Off The Wagon, McDougal St. Scribe: Davina Long

After much gnashing of teeth and breaking of balls, mainly caused by that troublemaker Troise wanting to get tied up and still be able to cavort around in a dress (Chris, you’re married now, this having fun thing has to stop), a date had been finalized for the eagerly anticipated Red Dress Run. This is fast becoming THE event in the hash calendar, which I suppose says something about the psyche of the male members of this hash. It was time to beg, steal or borrow something red and sexy, or alternatively just wear the same thrift store rags we wore last year. Speaking of which, Jill scores nil points for imagination by failing to think of buying a red dress at one of these fine establishments. Shit Jill, where do you think we got ours, Bloomingdales?

People gathered at the appointed starting location, which we promised would also be the finish location, and started to get changed. It was about this time that we found out where the “Bull” in Bull McCabe’s comes from. Apparently they had “double booked and have another party arriving at 4:00, so sorry but you poofters in your red dresses will have to go and be camp elsewhere”. I fancy there may have been some hasty phone calls made once the first dresses and wigs were donned, and possibly one of our cross-dressing friends started hitting on the barman. No matter, we hashers are made of stern stuff even in dresses, so off we trooped down St. Marks Place to the new start. Even in this haven for freaks and weirdos, we were attracting plenty of attention. This year’s vogue seemed to be blond wigs, with Steve, Crofty, Viagra Vince and Devo looking resplendent in theirs. Steve looked particularly sexy with the blond wig/black goatee combo. Devo was looking a strong contender for sexiest woman though with what appeared to be some kind of latex spray-on skin hugging number, which only a woman with his figure could get away with wearing. Personally, after last year’s Rocky Horror/Gene Simmons jibes, I steered well clear of wigs and went with a hat instead – so this year I was either The Joker from Batman or “the guy out of A Clockwork Orange”. I can’t win.

The trail went all around the village, and we were getting plenty of attention from camera toting tourists (“eets true what zay say, New York eez fool of freaks!”) as well as bumcrack toting construction workers (maybe they recognized Steve?). Funny how it takes bearded men in dresses to draw wolf whistles on the hash – although the summer jog bra season is almost upon us, so that may change. Devo’s tight dress obviously wasn’t restricting his running style any, as he sped off at the front of the pack. Not many trail misdemeanours were reported, although the returning Kelly (welcome back) and Ann-Marie got a joint “dumb blonde” award for not knowing what “RDR” stood for. Melanie meanwhile was having “equipment problems” out on trail, fortunately big brother was there to fix her straps before the residents of Hudson St. got a thrill.

The HALT sisters did not let us down and laid a short trail, and they had managed to hastily arrange an alternative on-in which amazingly was not The Village Idiot. It was in fact the scene of last year’s Halloween run, Off The Wagon. Hmm…it just occurred to me that I have yet to drink in this bar without a dress on. Anyway, they seemed pleased to have a bunch of transvestites in there on a Saturday afternoon, and gave us a great deal on the beer into the bargain. It was an intimate space shall we say, kind of a trial run for the summer runs. There was a guy all the way from Berne H3, as well as a couple from Erie, PA – obviously a serious hash, they had name tags and seemed intent on flashing their breasts and genitals at anyone with a camera.

The awards this year were: Ugliest Woman, Steve, just edging out Vince, and Sexiest Woman, Devo, without a lot of competition it has to be said. As the night wore on, there were several drunken experiments in breast enlargement the cheapo way (i.e. with balloons) as well as the aforementioned skin flashing by our friends from Erie. Overall though we were a very orderly pissed-up crowd of cross-dressers, except for Junior, who probably doesn’t remember much of the evening and apparently had to be carried home. Funny how the RDR seems to make long-lost hashers crawl out from under their stones – but welcome back Amy, Fiona, Kelly, Lawrence and Beth. Feel free to attend a non-cross dressing run sometime.

Another rip-roaring success of a Red Dress Run. Will it be Donkey Dong’s swansong? Time will tell. Anyway, how about next year we have a Blue Dress Run – it’s so much more my colour.

On out.