A few months back I had some of my in laws over from Japan. Given that it's obligatory for all Japanese visitors to the US to pay homage to Walt Disney I had the misfortune to spend a few days in Orlando. I can therefore fully understand why Orlando based hashers would want to escape from there at any opportunity. Just how desperate they are is underscored by the fact that they chose the coldest weekend of the year to visit New York. I met up with them on Friday's pub crawl where they explained that Ron had told them prior to their departure that it was quite mild, temperatures in the 40s. The poor sods arrived with the temperature at 15 and falling. They spent their first day buying ear muffs, scarves, hats and other sundry clothing.
By Sunday the temperatures were getting back up to the 30s and a good sized pack assembled including the aforementioned Orlando types, all resplendent in their red dresses. Because the 4, 5 and 6 lines were totally screwed up it took me 40 minutes to get from 42nd Street down to Bowling Green. This, plus a rather unhelpful arrow leading nowhere, meant that I missed the start and had to do the run carrying my bag. As I had brought with me a good supply of Brooklyn shirts to off load onto the visitors, as well as my regular supply of sushi, it was not a light bag. Now I know what it's like running round with that amount of extra weight I have more sympathy towards JM DB2.
Well Rudi it worked. Your brilliant idea to stop us spending our hard earned dosh across the river was right on target. Being a small time haberdasher from Brooklyn I felt discriminated against because there was no Brooklyn run during the period of tax grace. But then I thought these oiks from down south won't know the difference between the Brooklyn and NYC hashes and the locals won't be able to resist my tax free Brooklyn shirts. And I sold out. Even had to turn customers away. The only thanks I got from Brooklyn JM Jerry was `you should have brought more shirts', conveniently forgetting the fact that had I done so I would have collapsed half way round the trail. Laird, standing in for Haberdasher John, was also doing a brisk trade. Apparently John had recently tidied up his apartment and in so doing came across various items of elegant hash clothing including the gray number with Ms Liberty, the 1995 marathon weekend sweatshirt and some red ear muffs that probably haven't seen the light of day since before I started hashing. There was one torn, crumpled shirt which looked like John had cleaned the windows with it. Michael H was particularly proud of securing this item for $7.00. `I can soon mend the tear' he said. This didn't stop me from stiffing him $15.00 for one of my pristine shirts.
Down downs were conducted for the first time by newly appointed JM Marie. Lacking the stentorian tones of JM DB2 she did an excellent job, ignoring the shouts of `stand up' and clambering up on the bar so we could all see her. On a sadder note it was time to say farewell to Jan and Laila, who, apparently, are pining for the fjords. `Everyone's favorite Norwegians' was how JM Marie described them in her glowing tribute. But of course they are. Most hashers could count on the first two fingers of their left hand the number of Norwegians they know. Probably couldn't find the place on the map. Probably think Norway's the capital of Sweden.* Anyway come back again soon, preferably in time to set the Santa Lucia run.
Oh yes, I nearly forgot the run itself. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In which case Yoshi (my spell check still insists it's Yeti) and I are indeed flattered. I met up with Yeti Yoshi towards the end of the run and we both remarked on the uncanny similarity between this run and the GGFM hash we set in August. Hares Jerry and Ariane started at the same spot at the bottom of Manhattan . The trail then did the same jiggles around downtown , the same obligatory swing through Chinatown, with a check at exactly the same corner, (don't you love running through Chinatown on a Sunday afternoon, knocking over fish, vegetables and little old ladies?), up into Soho followed by a westerly drift. Yoti (nice compromise although my spell check now suggests Yogi) and I were now convinced it was going to finish at the North River Bar so we did something neither of us had done before. We did a Keith. Personally I believe a trail is to be followed, otherwise what's the point? Some poor hare spends a couple of hours throwing flour around the least one can do is have the courtesy to follow the trail. But with my bag getting heavier at every check I thought sod that for a game of soldiers and, totally ignoring the trail and shouts of on on, Yeshi and I headed in the other direction, mightily relieved when we saw some sweaty hashers standing outside.
Being the scribe I can write about those bits of the hash and on-in that I choose to and ignore other bits. Thus I am not going to go into great detail about who was wearing which red dress at the on-in and how stunning anyone looked. If any photo surfaces with me in a red dress it's a fake. Unlike any photos of Jerry.
* For those who don't know, it's the capital of Finland.
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