NYCH3 Run# 815 Hares: Trisha Hoffman, Danny Chokiri, It’s Pat Cuff Start: NFL HQ, Park & 48th On-In: Chez Trish Special Guest Scribe: Christine Hinz

Listen, for starters, I have to tell you right up front that I HATE FOOTBALL! Furthermore, I don’t particularly care for Super Bowl Sunday because to me it’s a lot like New Years’ Eve – just a whole lotta hoopla and reckless drinking over nothing. Still, I can’t help having the urge to participate in all the revelry in fear of missing out on something. What? I dunno. But the thought of spending the afternoon on a pre-SB hash with a fair amount of Brits and other fine “citizens of the world” seemed like making the best of an otherwise bad situation.

Our hash met at NFL headquarters in NYC!!! This seemed very exciting to me, but I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps a big brass NFL logo on the building façade? Or sports-fans milling about in team colored war paint with those silly foam hands? Instead, the bastion where the whole concept of megabuck sporting events was first developed turned out to be a rather non-descript location, with nothing more than several slightly amused weekend security guards snickering at our motley gathering. (Didn’t we know the game was in Atlanta?)

The start of the run took us North. Yet, weather it was the salt on the ground, the melting snow or some other indefinable reason, we had trouble finding any marks. Along with a lack of pack marks early in the trail, Melissa and I quickly decided that those FRBs and/or hares were looking to turn this hash into one of those “f*&k-you” runs that became so popular this past summer. Once we finally made it into the park, things got a little better, though. Better, that is, if you know how distinguish white powdery flour for white powdery snow.

We ran around Wollman rink, where several of us stopped to check out the Zamboni, then around the Dairy, up to the Boat House, up again to Bethesda Fountain(?), over near the Bandshell, then up around Belvedere Castle, over to the Delacorte and up to the top of the Great Lawn -- where, if you didn’t look – you missed one of the most spectacular views of NYC. Think of a field of pristine snow and a backdrop of Central Park trees, all leading up to a stunning Southern view of the NYC skyline and dramatic January sky. (Kurt Masur, where are you and the rest of the gang when I need you to play Rhapsody in Blue?)

After slipping along the back of the MET, I finally hit the “zone” – spacing out and nearly missing the tailgate party. Glad they called me back, cause the hot chocolate with Peppermint Schnapps was memorable, and so was watching Danny and Pat tossing the ‘ol pig skin back and forth. Decorations on ‘DA BEARS were also a really nice touch, even if I did try to defile it with Ed’s banana peel.

Things were in full swing when I arrived at Trish’s place for the on-in. Piles of sneakers took up a good part of the kitchen floor, and the beer was good and cold. It seems little time wasted nursing glasses of water. Chili testing was taking place, with total inhalation of the stuff to follow (Good grub, Danny!). And, as promised, there were ample television screens.

Down-downs were given for the usual various infractions, including Dave’s latest published article on the hash in the NYRRC’s Running News (with those awful photos of several of the regulars in our bleary-eyed, beer-belching gang), Peter’s driving into a ditch the day before at the Westchester AGM, and the initiation of several virgins. Dave Hardy was also presented with the latest hash-prop -- a set of rabbit ears for being the fastest FRB of them all. “Kiss my arse,” he said…and since no one was willing to do so, Dumb Dick got stuck wearing the headgear instead.

In preparation for kick off, Peter tried to sell off boxes at a mere three bucks a pop, but had a hard time, what with hash-cash bumped up to $20. Luckily he was able to get rid of them before the announcement of Ewa’s latest haberdashery for sale – those cool white running gloves with the NYCH3 and footsie logo (You’ve scored another touchdown, Ewa!).

Peter was later seen preparing another new hash-prop, the Asshole Plunger, with rope for better on-in maneuvering. A good idea, I’d say, I mean how can any hasher carry on a decent on-in conversation while juggling a plunger full of beer with a slice of pizza and a fistful of napkins? Add a Palm Pilot, since Slo2Blo looks like he’s a shoe in for next week’s prize after expressing his desire to “win” the hash some day, and we’ll all be thanking Peter for his practicality and forethought.

Perhaps the high point of my evening was my moment of bonding with Hostess Trish, who I realized relates to football in much the same way that I do, when she asked me my opinion on the color of the Titan’s jerseys…

“What colors are they wearing?” she asked.

“Well, I’d say they’re teal and aqua,” I replied.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You sure it’s not like a forest green?”

“No. Teal. Definitely teal.”

That led us into a conversation about the various color schemes of other teams, the prettiest being the Miami Dolphins. (And that’s about as exciting as football gets for me, folks.)

As the on-in continued, those more interested in the commercials gravitated to the kitchen, while football fans took over the living room and 10 or 12 others snuggled up together on the “Official Super Bowl Coat Bed.” Now, it could’ve been the beer, or the large flakes of snow outside, but I still have no idea who won The Big Game, or the loot. But really, who cares, because just like the hype that went along with this past Millennium New Years’, in the end, at least we all survived.

On-out.