NYCH3 Run #771 (AGM Recovery Run)

Start: 72^nd and Central Park West.

On-in: Reif’s Tavern, 92^nd Street and 2^nd Avenue.

Alrighty then. If I’m going to spend the best part of the next year writing up hashes, let’s be clear that I tend to write like I set hashes. So you can expect plenty of long, rambling sentences that don’t really lead anywhere, non sequiturs, and obscure, hard to fathom references, followed by a disappointing ending. O.K. Glad we got that straight - on with the writeup.

A rather sorry-for-themselves pack assembled at 72^nd & CPW, most suffering from rampant hangovers from Saturday, as evidenced by the bottles of Poland Spring being sucked on. Good job they’ve turned on the water fountains in the park again, otherwise there may have been fatalities. A couple of new faces were also there, no doubt wondering quite why we were such a lifeless bunch.

It was just before the start that Peter, hashmobiler for the day, had his first brush with the law. Apparently he was "blocking the intersection". Peter, brave man that he is, reasoned that it was, in fact, a police barricade that was blocking the intersection. Now, you may think that arguing with a New York police officer is not wise at the best of times, but doing so having just driven up with three kegs in the back of your car and possibly still legally drunk, is bordering on insanity. Fortunately, no guns were drawn, and the car was moved.

The trail took in the more scenic parts of Central Park, most of which had been spoilt by being overrun with people, but never mind. Through Strawberry Fields, across the 72^nd St. transverse to a check which presumably was designed to foil lazy short-cutting bastards like me, being placed on top of a fairly steep rock formation. Not everyone was fooled so easily, and we were soon on into the ramble. A couple of checks in here split the pack up successfully, aided and abetted by Sucks After Dark putting down bogus pack marks - a hideous crime he was to be rightfully down-downed for later! Obviously someone else put down the pack mark at the next check, by the reservoir, since it actually went in the right direction. Michelle must have lost all faith by this time though, as she decided to get in some early marathon training and run around the reservoir in the opposite direction anyway. She’s taking this marathon mission seriously it seems, having also been caught in possession of the dreaded Bob Glover running handbook at the on-in.

After a refreshing beer check and a second chance to drink some more of that sour Sam Adams from the AGM (actually it tasted better today, for some reason), we exited the park and zig-zagged down to the on-in at Reif’s, ever popular as an on-in during the summer being one of only about three bars in the whole of NY with a beer garden. I fear this may end, however, when the neighbouring wasteland gets developed into luxury condos or worse still, another branch of Starbucks.

It was while we were enjoying the first few post-run bevvies that Peter had his second brush with the law, finding himself being summoned by a passing patrol car on 2^nd Ave. What hideous crime could we be committing? None, as it turned out. Peter had just been mistaken for Hank, the bar owner. Good job Hank wasn’t wanted for any serious crimes, or they may well have opened fire.

Down-downs were conducted for the first time in his new post by JM Sgt. Major Gilbert. New boots Pat and John, who fucked up and so were made to do it again. Sucks for his sucky pack marks, narrowly avoiding the dreaded "from the shoe" chug, although his shoes did look pretty damn shiny. Eva was given a special Botany down-down for running into a tree, no mean feat in New York. Eva is always a star turn when chugging (if that is the right word) a beer; I’ve never seen a person enjoy beer less. I think she must surely have been the inspiration behind those "Bitter Beer Face" ads. Tip: try adopting the Wickham "throw it over everyone else" technique.

A few civilian late arrivals including Beverley and her friend, who unfortunately disappeared into the bar after being shouted at by Roy, and had to be coaxed back outside. As the night turned cooler, we adjourned to the warmth of the bar for more beer and the usual hash mixture of serious conversation and absolute bullshit. A suitably mellow ending to what for most had been a weekend of excess. Oh well – now for the Wednesday night zoos!

On-out.