The Long and Winding Road / a.k.a. Turn Turn Turn
It would never have happened while DB2 was on-sec. Back in those days it was a given that the write up would be done by the on-sec. Never mind that he was on vacation in England. He'd simply sit down at the keyboard, imagine what the run was like and write it up. Now, under the new regime Crofty deigns to put finger to keyboard about one run in ten. This, in itself, is not necessarily a bad thing; variety is the spice of life and all that. It used to be that he would ask someone in advance if they would like to be guest scribe but his method of late is to wait until about ten o'clock, corner someone and ask them to write up that night's run. Thus it was last Wednesday that I was feeling a bit Brahms and Liszt (ask one of the Brits) when the aforementioned Crofty (my spellchecker suggested I change it to crafty) approached and said "you don't mind doing tonight's write up, do you"? Now had he asked me before the run I would have made careful note of where we were going and who was doing what and I could have provided a witty account of the proceedings with a few anecdotes about the various places of interest. As it is I don't remember much about it, especially now that it's Saturday.
The two hits from the sixties listed above kept coming into my mind as we pounded the streets of lower Manhattan. It was one of the easier trails to follow, once you worked out the system the hares were using. I worked it out about ten yards before the on-in. The trail was as follows. Run one block, turn left, run one block, turn right, run one block, turn left, run one block, turn right. The whole trail occupied the smallest area I have ever experienced on a hash, and it wasn't a short run. Everyone was waiting for a complete fuck up as the trail doubled back on itself. But it never did. At one stage the trail went south from a check at Bowling Green. As there was no way the trail could go north without running back into itself we were convinced the on-in was going to be in the Staten Island Ferry terminal. This is not so far fetched. A run not so long ago finished in the Port Authority bus terminal. As we somehow managed to head north again our faith in the hares was restored. And soon we were at the on-in. All in all a pretty good run. I overheard one person say it was the best downtown run she had been on - obviously she wasn't at the August full moon hash that Yoshi and I set. My spellchecker suggests Yeti for Yoshi.
Last time the UV Fat Boys set the trail they provided us with an excellent selection of choice ales. This time although the selection wasn't as wide it did include Murphy's. When was the last time we had Murphy's as part of hash cash? And the food even looked something like real food. No complaints.
Which brings me to Wendy. When he was a kid my brother was infatuated with a girl called Wendy. At school you always knew if my brother had sat at a desk as the first thing he did was to carve `Wendy' on it. Which is totally irrelevant except that she shares the same name as Wendy who poured out her tale of woe to me. It sounded as if she was on a totally different hash to the rest of us. At one stage I couldn't take it any more and I went to have a chat to Jerry about his washed out Sheepshead Bay run. When I returned she was still telling her story. Apparently when she got to the World Trade Center there was a barrier across the stairway and she had to jump it, then she got chased by security guards who made her jump over another barrier to get out, then she couldn't find the on trail from the WTC, then she got accosted by some winos in some park, then ........enough already - ed.
A few civilians graced us with their presence including a very smooth looking Vince. When I left he was phoning a car service. In Manhattan, where you can't move for yellow cabs. I guess when you reach a certain age you have to do something if you want to impress the babes. Wonder if he scored. On on.
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