Hashing in New York city is indeed great fun...............arguably equaled by relaxing on your personal terrace over the Copacabana so it was while pondering the latter (having recently carried out both) that I was accosted emotionally by our chief scribe and agreed to write this piece. It seems our esteemed On-Sec has just discovered the incredible delights of delegation and is currently pursuing it to excess as witnessed by the plentiful (isn't this the season of plenty ????) supply of guest scribes of late. Anyway, I'm just as big a sucker as the next guy - anything to get my name in lights, albeit with the prefix "guest". There were several candidates on this hash who could have passed for the Garota (girl) de Ipanema. but we won't go into that now...........
Sandwiched between Donald Trump's (or did Ivana get that part of the 1st generation empire) flagship Plaza Hotel and the ever-lengthening queue (if you want me to write this thing you'll have to put up with a few "Irishisms" - not to mention the spelling) outside FAO Schwartz, the cold, anxious-to-get-moving pack were led through the usual pre-run pep talk by our charming hares - Peter and Lisa. It seems that Lisa ran the trail three times in preparation (including a half-day off work) while Peter sat at home in the warmth of his apartment watching TV - another fine example of the art of delegation.
Without further ado, it was off to the park where we quickly found our first check at the carousel. It being too cold to have a ride, we carried on down towards the lower loop, past playground to check 2, situated near rock formation. The trail then proceeded down steps, by Tavern on the Green, one block along CPW and returned to the park with check 3 behind Summer Stage. After some quick but comprehensive checking, the trail was found to head alongside the boat pond (where it is rumored some adventurous out-of-town hashers attempted to cross on the ice - they were no-shows at the On-In) and on to the boathouse. Continuing through the Rambles, towards the police barracks to the Delacorte Theater for check 4. After taking in the view, the trail was quickly found to travel west, up to the Great Lawn, along the reservoir and to the Engineers' Gate for the final check (5). The flower/chalk combo then carefully weaved its way to the tune of Andy's pink horn to the On-In at the Sand Bar where the waiting jugs miraculously flowed for some time, the contents changing from the initial clear Dihydrogen Oxide liquid to a more inviting amber color at an early stage.
It seems that hashers' memories continue to deteriorate (why???????) as no one was heard to dispute the early call for "hash cash twelve bucks". Perhaps this lapse of horror at the thought of paying more than the past standard 10 was caused by the distraction provided by a rather overcrowded goldfish bowl seen circulating the bar. However, hashers must beware, lest they lose their reputation for being cheap! The down-down's carried out by our illustrious JM (John B. - doubling as record-breaking haberdasher), began with our keen-to-depart visitors from Philadelphia - Just Lisa and Male Driver accompanied by founding father Lee Carlson. Next up were the hares Peter and Lisa, the latter taking rather longer than usual - the chugging time being measurable on any stopwatch with thousandth-second accuracy. Then came virgin Gretchen (gallantly escorted throughout the run by Michael) who promised to come back for more followed by civvies twins Mary the Greek and our above-mentioned, esteemed On-Sec, Dave Bad-Boy Byron Brown. (It seems the latter arrived late at 3.20 PM and bemoaned the lack of flour which prevented his finding the trail. However, Ciderman arrived at 3.30 PM and managed to complete the trail with no problem - "go figure"!) The final two comprised Jonathan Ciderman for showing his pectorals but not his cider-belly and Dave "The Body" Croft for once again astounding his detractors by achieving another PR in his advanced years.
After consumption (by all except "I'm not eatin' no greasy pizza "Karin"") of hash-wittles, the serious business of the evening began. As beer consumption increased, tongues wagged and stories of the run appeared from all angles - even "I know nothing" Patti was heard to utter some opinions on her fellow hashers, voicing her heavily-held views on the Irish divorce referendum and singing the praises of Niagara Falls in the Winter. She even managed to send DBB home in an embarrassed state on suggesting that he might produce some tetrahedral-structured carbon for Alison this Christmas. (BTW, Patti, it's called "The Barrytown Trilogy" and Roddy Doyle DID write it).The pool table was busy with Mary the Greek opting to join forces with Michael Baha after sinking the '8' ball against him (of course, she was leading at the time). The same Michael had complained of a painful toe during the run - typical hypochondriacal behavior - it merely contained an inch-long slither of glass, easily removed with Pierre's forceps. Our hare Peter was heard to describe himself as a "donkey with no brain" and considered it wise to have Lisa handle all the money transactions lest the temptation of skipping town with the hash cash become too much for an unemployed gentleman. It must be said he swept the bar regularly to ensure all hashers belongings were intact - probably hoping to find some clothing which he could later offload to a homeless person. Unfortunately, all he found was a single right-hand, brown, suede glove and, not being able to locate any one-armed individual to buy this, took it home in the hope that the owner would later reward him for his kind act.