Continuing the recent hash theme of starting consecutive runs at the same place, I arrived at Washington Square for the second time in five days, this having been the scene of the HALT brothers "Last Days of the Roman Empire" hash/orgy the previous Saturday. I guess if that had been a typical cross-section of Roman society, it would be easy to see why their empire crumbled, especially since they would have been farting around trying to tie their togas most of the time. Anyway, not a toga in sight tonight, and for that matter not a hasher either, but then it was 7:25 which was pushing it a bit even allowing for the usual late start. The only unusual attire required this evening was an "Ugly Tie", apparently a subject very dear to Paul 92s heart as he also hosted this event last year, in a deluge if I remember correctly. Just as I had resigned myself to running with my bag, I bumped into Ariane and Joyce, the former having also arrived late and the latter seemingly on her way home. I guess Joyce knows better than to run one of her old man 92s trails. Fortunately she told us where the on-in would be and also where a nifty short-cut could be found south of the square (known in hashing circles as cheating).
Having duly cheated, we picked up the trail heading west just south of the square. I was disappointed (not) to hear later on that I had missed the hardest check of the trail which apparently took fifteen minutes to solve and was even then only solved by accident, after Lauren started running the trail backwards for no good reason. Further proof that hashing is 50% dumb luck and 50% alcohol. Having lost the trail at 6th Ave. and 4th, I retraced my steps and was almost mown down by Bill, Ed, Brent and a few other FRBs coming the other way. Ed kindly pointed out that I was in fact standing on the very mark I had been looking for 96 doh! The trail continued west through the cobbled streets of the far west village, criss-crossing the toga trail a fair bit so you had to be careful. In fact, P&P managed to cross paths with two old trails including last week 92s, which a few people actually followed for a while until they finally copped on. On the whole though, it was a well marked and pretty straightforward trail, or maybe I 92m just saying that because I cheated. A couple of people had minor scrapes with traffic (Bill and Ben in fact, which I know will make all Brits over 30 smile). Ben duly received his down-down but of course his fellow flowerpot man had long since disappeared. Bill is the only person I know, apart from perhaps Patrick Ewing, who can make himself invisible at will.
Well, they certainly have their sporting priorities right at the Village Idiot. On a night when the Mets were playing a must-win game against Atlanta, we were treated to semi-naked female wrestling, which as we all know can only be topped by totally naked female wrestling. Not only this but a never-ending loop of country music (I swear I heard "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" five times) provides the perfect ambience for our festivities. Looking around the assembled masses it seemed that most people had at least made an attempt at the ugly tie thing. Obviously people aren 92t as shy about this as they are about red dresses or togas. By the way, speaking as someone who is required to wear one four days a week, I would say that all ties are pretty nasty, useless garments, and the person who invented them should have been hung from the nearest tree with one. But then, Paul wouldn 92t be able to have his ugly tie run. Scot had actually gone the whole hog and turned up with not just an ugly tie but a complete (non-ugly) suit.
This week 92s was an interesting circle with a variety of awards given out, the proceedings conducted once again in the absence of more suitable people 85.er, I mean older people, by Trotskyo. First, the best (worst?) tie awards. Martin got the men 92s award for his life-size penis tie, which I 92m sure he always wears to work and especially when meeting with clients. In the right wind, it even stands erect. Ariane meanwhile got the women 92s award for her home-made "Virgin Mary Covered In Pigeon Shit" which actually looked more like a scarf than a tie, but never mind. Ariane, for those who don 92t know her, is one of those cultural, arty, bohemian types, and this was her way of saying "Fuck You Rudy!" for attempting to censor the recent "disgusting", "immoral" etc. exhibit at the Brooklyn museum featuring V.M. covered in elephant pooh. She received her reward of a $20 Tie Rack gift voucher (very bohemian) with a defiant cry of "Liberte pour les artistes!" or "Vive la Revolution" or something like that. Quite right 92n all. But please Ariane, don 92t try and set your next trail in elephant doo.
Speaking of penises, Kendra was wearing what was supposed to be a "tie" but as Peter pointed out, looked more like a huge phallus-shaped balloon hat on her head. She was of course punished and nicknamed Dickhead. Masters of the obvious, hashers. Trotskyo then made an example of a couple fairly new to the hash, who fortunately shall remain anonymous since I 92ve forgotten their names,
who were spotted snogging at the start. By the way, I 92ll bet that you Americans must be really sick of Brits trying to ram our colloquialisms down your throats ("shagging" being the most tiresome example). All I can say is, it 92s sweet revenge for you giving us The Dukes of Hazzard and The Golden Girls. So let that be a warning to all you current and prospective hash couples out there (you know who you are) 96 save your snogging (and shagging, if we 92re at Jake 92s) for the on-in.
Having introduced his baby brother to the hash earlier in the summer, Devo this time brought along his visiting parents, who apparently had a whale of a time. As some of you may know, Devo has had some injury problems of late, but I 92m happy to report that he 92s now back in action and ready to run the marathon 96 dressed as a turtle. Struth, that beer must have been stronger than I thought! So, if anyone is running the marathon and gets passed by a turtle, remember to say hi.
Patrick had done a sterling negotiation job so that we were able to get all the beers dirt cheap, even Guinness. This ensured that the party continued until late into the evening and those that chose to could feed their Thursday morning hangovers. When "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" came on for the sixth time, though, I knew it was time to split. Good job Paul and Patrick, and a great way to end the summer of hashing.
On out.
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