NYCH3
Post-AGM Recovery Run
Date: Sunday,
May 14th, 2000
Hares: J.M.’s Roy Gilbert & Peter Trunfio
Start: Columbus Circle/Entrance to
Central Park
On-In: Reif’s (Around 90th & First Avenue)
To
say that it was a bleak turnout for the Post-AGM “Recovery Run” is an
understatement. After all, from what I
could tell, everyone who enjoyed the festivities of the Annual General Meeting
the day before had all turned into pumpkins and gone home well before Midnight,
and it was a beautiful day for a hash.
Too bad, because as the saying goes, “There’s safety in numbers.”
The
small turnout of about ten or so left us in a rather precarious position this
recovery afternoon, when we were faced with a young thug singling us out for a
confrontation revolving around Peter’s drawing boob-check marks and back-check
marks just outside of Central Park at Columbus Circle. From what we could
understand, this young gentleman didn’t
want us scuffing up his park and basically told us to clean it up
-- or else. Things could have gotten ugly, were it not for all the male
hasher’s gentlemanly manners (or were they just all too tired and hung over to
fight??). In the end, I think we told him to “sod off” (whatever that
means…) and told his girlfriend to get some clothes on – a reasonable response
to an unreasonable demand. Then Peter
told us exactly what boob- and back- checks were and we were on our way.
The
hash started around the southern loop of Central Park and meandered on up the
West Side toward Tavern on the Green.
At that point, a pack of male hashers were waiting for Lesley and I at
the first and only boob-check (a check where only chicks are allowed to find
the trail). We knew we were supposed to
fan out, but being the chicks that we are (it’s true, we travel in packs – just
watch us go to the restroom) it took a bit of convincing, but eventually the
chiding got us to split up to get back on trail.
Later
on, as we hit a back-check by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, we all had a
chance to prove how pathetic we were in our Post-AGM daze, when we couldn’t
figure out how to count the trail marks back on a back-check. Does the actual ‘B’ for back-check count
as one? (Answer: No, it does
not.) Was it three and we’re
on? One and we’re on? Who’s on first? What the hell is a back-check again??
As
we continued, we hit the reservoir, where another really simple check almost
got the best of us. (Are we on to the left? Right. Right? No,
left.) Some caught the trail further up
by 89th Street on the reservoir, but I ran along the horse path to
the next check at 91st Street.
We were itching to get out of the park, but ended up back on trail along
the horse path again -- at which point the trail went under a fence. A lot of the guys did it, but I think the
only woman that braved the threat of tetanus was Ewa.
Finally
out of the park, it was a pretty quick shot to the On-In at Reif’s, if you
didn’t follow Chris, David and others down the block and back (Come back!
The beer is HERE!). As a result of
their overzealousness, Lesley earned the coveted Rabbit Ears.
I’ve
never been to Reif’s, but was thrilled to see that this On-In had a really
great garden overlooking a rat-infested construction site, along with good
views into the much more upscale Ruby’s (‘round the corner, they serve food ya
know…) and the drying laundry above (this was the real stuff, folks, not like
Rudy’s On-In location in Midtown). As a
rather worn out bunch of AGM survivors (and real troopers, I might add), we enjoyed
an evening that felt more like a casual backyard BBQ (only with pizza), than a
frenzied On-In we’d all be bracing for in the weeks to come. Down-downs were given to Martin
Blitzkrieg-(Bop), a visitor from Berlin; the aforementioned few who overshot
the bar and our FRB; as well as Steve Yeoman for his pathetic behavior the
night before (see AGM write-up), earning himself the well-deserved
Asshole-of-the-Week award.
Civilians who showed up and
deserve points for their efforts included Timmy, Heather, Dave Long, Melissa
and Michele. The evening ended when
that gals pulled hare and new J.M. Peter aside and told him that his boob-check
looked more like a two-nippled breast or half a smiley face than an actual set
of boobs. I guess that’s why they call it
mis-management.
On-out.