NYCH3 Run No. 850

Hare:     Sucks After Dark                                                               Start:  51st Street/Lexington Avenue 

On-In:   McQuaid’s/44th Street & 11th Avenue                        Guest Scribe: Pat Cuff

                                       

Have you ever wondered if there’s a parallel universe? If while we huddled around the street corner on 50th and First chanting, “With this beer we bless this Hare,” there was a separate but equal Hash in another galaxy repeating the same words after their Leader and preparing to embark on a Sucky trail? Suppose that in this new-found galaxy Manhattan is a borough of Suessville and not New York City.  And Sucks After Dark is not a kindly Mystery Hare but the dreaded, evil Dr. Dark. I can hear Sucks now, “Virgins come and gather near, I have some things you need to hear. Arrows point you here to there, circled X’s lead you anywhere. Most hares like to mark their trail -- but not I, just run and run until you die!!!! You will not see the FRB’s, you will not call Hash-NYC. You will not know just where you are, you’ll never find the On-in BAR!!!!”

 

I was jolted back to reality when I realized the pack was sprinting east in search of our Mystery Hare and I was standing by myself. Knowing Lesley works just blocks from our start, I chose to follow her veteran intuition southeast towards the UN. Nothing. I ran north – Nothing. I ran west – Nothing. I went south – Nothing. I went north again and found a pack but no trail. I ran north, south, east and west with the pack and still, Nothing. All I could think was, “I wonder what the hashers on Dr. Dark’s trail are saying right now . . .  ‘We ran up and we ran down, we ran all around this town. Dave looked west and Dave looked east, Dave said Dr. Dark’s a beast. Dave thought – I don’t want to fail, but I can’t find this fuckin’ trail.’”

 

This time I was eased out of Suessville by a street corner discussion on the true meaning of  “YOU AND.” The group unanimously agreed to sprint to the UN in search of a trail. Still not seeing a mark and still not understanding the rules of SAD’s trail, my group grew not only in size but in exasperation. We now numbered over 96 cumulative years of education and still we couldn’t figure out the meaning of “YOU AND.” So we called the make-shift hotline. Sucks answered as he’d promised and directed us to the third clue since the second one was washed away by those pesky, albeit clean, UN workers.  Off we ran to 42nd and Third where we found the words, “PERSHING SQ.” Now we get it!!!!!! It’s like a puzzle. All that college money wasn’t wasted after all. The newly wedded Michael Murphy was the first to figure it out and ran us straight under the bridge at Grand Central where we quickly located our next hint, “PATIENCE + FORTITUDE.” It was Patrick’s turn this time to put his parents’ money to work and off we ran to the Main Library.  I now understood the trail and found myself enjoying the challenge though I couldn’t help but wonder about our fellow hashers in that far-away land . . .  “At the lions we now see, how this trail was meant to be. We will run. We’ll run and run. We’ll run for fun in the hot, hot, sun. ‘X’s ڤ!’ is clue number five, is our doctor still alive? Cause if he is we’d like to kill him, for mixing-up the McGraw Hill buildin’.”

 

Back on earth, the Mensans and I darted from Times Square to the NEW McGraw Hill Building but missed the next hint that was carefully laid at the OLD McGraw Hill Building. We again called the evil Dr. Dark for our next mystery clue . . . “Ha Ha so you couldn’t find, the hint that I had left behind. ‘O ¾¾’ is the  next clue to get you to my mark in blue.” As the evil doctor said goodbye, I felt us all give one big sigh. We ran further west to a neon sign, and Parallel Pat yelled out, “Circle Line!” Parallel Michael Bahamonde, wasn’t on trail with my group or me, but I would bet he was telling a Brit, something like “Dr.Dark’s trail is worth . . .”   “MIKE! We’re crossing in the middle of the Westside Highway?!?” I was catapulted out of Suessville with just enough time to consciously dodge on-coming traffic. At the Circle Line, we found “SR 70” marked on the road. Patrick again tapped into his “worthless” collection of knowledge and came through with the correct name and location of the spy plane housed on top of the Intrepid, “SR 71.” The ship was in plain view just a few blocks north of where we stood so off we went in search of a clue. To our surprise we landed on a real honest-to-goodness circle with an X in it. I heard Junior say, “Huh, so this is where the trail begins.” Less than 10 blue blobs later, we entered the on-in at 44th and Eleventh.

 

Once inside, the party was raging and so were the tempers. Much discussion ensued about the trail and who exactly would print the most scathing write-up --  I thought the run was clever so was immediately voted out. Promises of hot victuals and an open beer tap lured our group to McQuaid’s downstairs where folks continued plotting against our hare. Within the span of one pint, SAD appeared cautiously descending the staircase to a chanting band of irate hashers, “Sucks, Sucks, Sucks, Sucks.” No thanks were given to St. Bernard for the lovely run, the fine dining, the not-so-green leaves, or the yellow hole in the wall. We just simply ate.

 

Anyone who wasn’t a vegetarian had a very satisfied belly full of food as Roy and Peter rallied the troops for the circle of down-downs. They launched immediately into the AOTW award, which went without discussion to our SAD hare. I usually have a high level of concentration but maybe because of the scattered trail, I couldn’t help day-dreaming and again I found my mind wandering . . . Dr. Dark stood as the pack gathered near, and Peter gave him a plunger of beer. Now Timmy was heard above the whole crowd, so a down-down he got for singing so loud. Next on the list was the Visitor Man, then Kerry and Mike for their wedding band. The final down-down went to Steve Yoman for, being the first through McQuaid’s on-in door. As the doctor he listened to everyone sing, he thought to himself, “Now that’s a funny thing. These hashers are singing despite my best try, to get them all lost and make them all cry.” And he puzzled three hours, ‘till his puzzler was sore, then the doc thought of something he hadn’t before. “Maybe I need to explain my trail’s rules face-to-face, before sending them out on a wild goose chase.” And what happened then . . .? Well . . . the hashers they say, that the doctor’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

 

Now listen here Sucks don’t be sad and don’t pout, we all had a good time without any doubt. But now is the time to start thinking about, a good night to all and to all an “on-out.”