It was 'unseasonably warm' and shorts revealed the alabaster legs of many a northern hasher. Keith sent us on the way, downtown. With the tourist hashers' bells and whistles and a hearty On On! we made our way, in and out, around and down, as swirly and curly as Bahamonde's run but thankfully not as long (he is GOING to suffer! I will make sure of that). Working on my shortcutting skills, which are improving by the way, I did manage to save my tootses a few steps. One notable event was running through some project houses. A recalcitrant rapscallion up above threw an egg at me. It exploded in a startling crash, right before my feet. The concern from my fellow hashers was overwhelming. Tears well up even now at the unconditional care displayed for my well-being.
'Did you see that egg? It landed right in front of me.' Mickey says face screwed up with fright.
'on on!' shouts the concerned fellow hashers.
Finding our way over to Lincoln Center, there was debate among the flock, 'Jake's Dilemma or Shanons?' Into the park we careened, scaring the dickens out of the strolling y2kers. Some tourist hasher took a picture of the check claiming it to be the first one he saw. Then we turned back to 59th and those in the know make a bee line for 55rd and 8th. On in to see hashers that, what!? Taxied? Huh?
The beer started flowing but when the 10 buck hash cash was collected whispers abounded, 'no food?' Alfredo Lingweenie or something like that from Long Beach bought chips and pretzels. It was something to soak up the beer in our empty bellies. But 'I Will Not Complain!'
Trail tales (or hash trash) were passed out. The write up on Bahamonde and Christine's run was supreme. I questioned if our thoughts could be accurately described, but Croft did it! Oy Oy! And we thanked Keith (hare of the dog?) for the twisty turny run. Piss and Moan from Chicago was downed for being quoted in a newspaper. She revealed to me that they misquoted her, she actually said to the cop, 'you fucking pig better let me in to see that damn ball drop!' The tourists were brought up. Long Beach led in song about Dinah won't you blow (me!). Roy and Croft, the RA, wearing a most appropriate shirt, called up the marriage intendees and led us all in 'just say NO!' Perhaps a 'just say no hash', appropriately we'd call out No No, not On On? There was another birthday, fuck you! An announcement about Queens run and the extravagant $25 'fee'….but you get a FREE headband! Oh Boy! (please note the sarcastic bend).
The night grew up. Long Beach (Last train to cuntsville?) had a huge bottle of champagne…..….I didn't get any L. Someone pointed out that Public Access from Ann Arbor had new shoes. She averred, 'I drank from them already.' And then quietly confessed to me that she had actually not. Well, confessing to a person with a hash handle of Mickey Mouth is not the most sensible thing to do and, using the divine power bestowed upon me, I naturally let others know of her taradiddle. The chick from Long Beach (4n kate?) made a proper concoction of the 'Teabag Shoe' and Public Access drank up.
The night was aging now. Hashers were pairing up and departing (Danny and Pat know who I am talking about here), knowing smiles on some faces. There was some toe sucking going on…..I've never seen that on a hash before. Alas, I am so naïve! Danny instigated the grumbling of many a hungry tummy by bringing in a couple of slices. He auctioned off the second piece, a steal at 1 dollar! Soon after pizza arrived, like spontaneous combustion, and disappeared just as fast. Crazy Bob (the LBH3 named him 'too sexy') proved to be quite a cheeky bloke with that branch of his. Dancing was aroused, as well as a chorus line of songs. I am proud to say that we got a number of the bar flies to join us in celebration. We even joined in the reindeer games of some birthday group. Long Beach and a few NYCH3'ers were left when I called it a night. It was late, that's all I can say when I clad my jacket and headed out into the desolate lamp-lit streets of our fair city. Hair of the Dog? Indeed!
For our tourist friends: New York - it is a world completely rotten with wealth, power, senility, indifference, puritanism and mental hygiene, poverty and waste, technological futility and aimless violence, and yet I cannot help but feel it has about it something of the dawning of the universe. - Jean Baudrillard (b. 1929)
PS- For all those harriettes who wonder…..chivalry is not dead, not even on the hash!
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