Post date: Jul 30, 2012 7:03:45 PM
“A lady came up to me one day and said 'Sir! You are drunk', to which
I replied 'I am drunk today madam, and tomorrow I shall be sober but
you will still be ugly.”
Captain Jack Swallows and Teacher’s Pet… bless their little pointed
heads as my mom would say. Very ambitious trail and a perfect day to
stretch a moderate trail into an obscene one that contained multiple
brilliant elements. Drink check on the grassy knoll of the Lincoln
Center that pretty much none of us knew existed while a festival of
some sort was going on? Music and jello shots! And rice crispy treats!
Getting to said check? No exclamation points, just advice: don’t
follow packs of virgins because it turns out that they have little to
no idea what’s going on and take off with just the mere suggestion of
a correct direction. I’m pretty sure that a new record was set for
losing trail. That being said, the virgins were very enthusiastic not
to mention nice to look at.
So we kicked things off at a wonderfully narrow bar on 55th called
McGee’s where we proceeded to take up every inconvenient spot possible
by the time 3:30 rolled around. Some of us ventured outside while no
fucks were given by the rest of the pack of hooligan runners. Those
standing outside got to experience the mass arrival of the virgins.
Flabonghissimo promised virgins, and virgins he delivered. Did they
create random arrows and yell that we were on trail when we actually
weren't remotely? Oh yeah, but at least they had the enthusiasm to
bother doing it. Jersey Asshole wielded the almighty handmade CUNTH3
flag/punishment funnel and managed not to lose it, break it or beat up
any passerby at any point so that was pretty special in and of itself.
After all, he's known for earning his name- especially when he's the
hare. Anyhoodle, after covering most of the west side it seemed like,
(Including the insides of a swanky westside hotel. Let's hope the
guard's paycheck reflects the speed he hustled his chubby frame around
the lobby, first trying to catch the FRB's and turn us back, then
locking the front door once he realized how many we were.) with most
of it in error, we made it to the aforementioned drink check on the
grassy knoll of the Lincoln Center for some jello shots and homemade
rice crispy treats. And a treat they were because Swallows is a dynamo
in the kitchen. And according to my mom, a dynamo in the.... this is
awkward. Leave my mom out of this. Anyway, after a decent amount of
time spent imbibing and lollygagging we were off through the crowds of
the happenings at/around Lincoln Center complete with an unsuccessful
attempt at shoving a fellow hasher into a fountain. Wasn't me, I just
watched with no intention of helping if it was a success. Type A being
type A, just dove in after mentioning how funny it would be, and
recieving empatic encouragement of the "Uh, yea. Sure would"
variety. Drew a lot of displeased attention from the dried up old art
crawlers and helicopter parents, but the authorities didn't seem to
mind, or at least not enough to keep up with him as he sprinted out of
there. Of course, we automatically took off in the wrong direction
once we were down the main steps out of the Center but then again it
definitely kept with the spirit of directional chaos that dominated
this hash of ours. From there it was east and into Central Park
(yaaaay!!!) where we happened upon Pimpy Longstocking and Bam Bam
Thank You Ma'am strolling instead of hashing with us winners. We were
of course trying to find trail when we came across them and for
another good ten minutes or so continued to look for said trail
because nobody listened when I pointed out that the trail hopefully
had to go straight through the packed meadow directly in front of us.
Could I have checked myself? Probably. Whatever, leave me alone you
jerk. So in a flash of brilliance on the part of the hares, the trail
did indeed head into the clothing deficient masses of the meadow!
Sadly, afterwards things digressed back into directional chaos to the
highest degree. This in turn resulted finally in a call to Teacher's
Pet requesting the location of the second drink check that we knew had
to be in the park somewhere.
Once there, we ("we" being everyone but Doggie Erectus, who ended up
missing the second check completely) were greeted by more awesomeness
at the hands of the hares- this time in the form of white sangria and
brownies. It. Was. HEAVEN. Just Mio and Just Ian were spotted lounging
in the grass a few feet away and were convinced to tag along to the
on-in. It was also about two hours after when we took off from
McGee's and some of us found out that there was still about a third of
the trail left to go and for all of us but this guy, many beers to
consume and songs to sing. After about 20 minutes the pack took off
again and headed out of the park, automatically not on trail but with
a few of us armed with the knowledge of our destination location. This
is around the time that Lazer Labia, Hard Licker and I became even
more awesome than everyone else. For a little back story, Whatacunt
was working where trail was laid and did a little re-route to her spot
so that she could be an impromptu stop on the trail. Sadly, our
collective inability to even care about anything but being at the
on-in led to a mass re-set of the route that didn't go past her since
nobody was looking for arrows. Luckily she called Lazer to ask where
we were so the three of us re-routed ourselves to her and the
delicious frozen juice pops. Ever had one of those after running for
hours in the (almost) summer heat? None of the justifiable comparisons
is remotely appropriate. From there, we made our way the few blocks to
the on-in, which was at the Times Square Hotel's second floor bar. It
was even smaller than the pre-lube but also contained only us which
was AWESOME. The usual variety of downdowns were given out, FRB's,
DFL's, truants, etc. The virgins were like a litter of newborn
puppies, cute, enthusiastic, noisy and underfoot. And shitting things
up everywhere. When the French bloc of virgins were called out, two
or three of them weren't paying attention and didn't come up, then
snapped to attention once they recognized the tune of "A Frenchman
went to the Lavatory" and actually managed to drown out the hash with
their patriotic bellowings. Needless to say the hashshit was broke
out for its first official penalty downdown which the virgins took in
stride. Flabonghissimo drank for his admirable pimping out of the
hash, up to and including making his sister cum! F'Orgy had a
down-down for turning his prediliection to stroll through Times square
looking for wayward virgins to good account by grabbing all the
clueless newboots the pack was flinging loose at a rate of one or two
a mile.
Best of All, Just Zara has been named and will forever (or until we
come up with something better) be known as Cum Test Dummy, after
confiding in the pack her flubbing of the Chemisty Department's year
end Cum-ulative test. Congrats and Welcome! Don't do anything we
wouldn't do, at least not without us!
Second Cumming (First Removed)