ReHash #395

Half-Minds,

It was unbeleivably hot that day. I awoke smelling the
sweet aroma of flowers in bloom and hearing the
finches chattering softly at my window as the sun
shone in. Then I realized I was still dreaming and
woke up with a start, alas, still in Ithaca and nearly
late for the hash (or so I thought.) I grabbed my
breeches and ran out the door like a flash, not
realizing I had forgotten the directions to the Hash.
I drove on anyway figuring I’d find another poor soul
who was lagging behind. Sure enough there was one up
ahead like a bat out of hell, to catch him I sped.
Unfortunately for me he drove like two bats out of
hell! (sure enough, none other than Skull.) Which
brings me to the hash.
Damn Cold. Damn Wet. Damn Hung-over. Damn Back check!
Damn Hash!

Oh wait, that’s a rehash I did back in 1997… Sorry!

———————-

In the interest of not losing our listserver, I have complied this photo-journalistic rehash of the events which were captured on this past Sunday, February 16th, 2003. Understand that, a picture is worth a thousand words has brought on new meaning when discussing bandwidth usage. I figured that nobody would want to read a 8000+ word rehash essay, so I will be substituting some pictures instead. With that said, on with the rehash…

The hash met up with the hares, Dances with Head and Hungman at 2PM sharp at the Chanticleer, a popular bar where professionals often go to unwind after a long day of being a societal leader. A veritable whos-who of Ithaca was there. BallWrinkle, was there early for a change, apparently graciously donating his old small, puny bumper to a fellow Toyota enthusiast from Cortland, as he now has the tough penis-extension, tough-guy bumper with a winch on it. But I wouldn’t know much about all this, as I was sliding down State Street Hill at about 40 M.P.H. on my mountain bike because each of the hashers assumed that someone else would respond to my request for a ride to the hash! Keep in mind that the sub-zero temperatures, added to the wind chill and the additional wind chill of my velocity, made for a cold, reckless trip. I was literally freezing when I got to the bar and promptly asked for a …cold beer?! Well, we’re only half-minds after all!

After much debate as to whether or not it was too cold to venture out, we finally decided to get started. Hung-Man explained that the trail began quite a ways away from the bar so that noone would sabotage the trail….wait, we all reminded him, he was the only person who would sabotage the trail!

Puker, who was not allowed into the Chanticleer was glad to be out of the car, but he couldn’t give a shit about the no dogs on the commons rule…wait, actually he did! As BW was pulling him to the safety of somewhere to empty his bowels, he ran dropping presents, no doubt to the anti-war demonstrators dismay! The hash led us up and around the parking garage and through Ithaca’s Swinest’s back yard, up and over to the South Hill, where floss kindly demonstrated his namesake to a innocent I.C. freshman girl who, surprising Floss though noone else, laughed at him!

The next leg of the trail brought us recklessly down an icy, washed out stairwell which luckily claimed no lives. We then proceeded to walk down the frozen creek searching for marks. It was a regular circus act to behold! I thought to myself, If only someone had a camera! Hey, I do!

We then were forced up a great, icy ravine with which it was hailing the size of pumpkins! Sorry this is a bit blurry, the lense was fogged.

We then ran up to where the hash was supposed to go; into the closed cascadilla gorge trail in collegetown, but even the hares weren’t stupid enough to go down there….well one was. He lost his keys and almost fell to his death, which was just about enough deterence for the rest of us. Instead, we had a beer check at Roadkills house…Roadkill, if you’re reading this, this part isn’t really true. Please disregard the empty beer cans in your yard.
We then went to on-in at the CastAways where the bar had graciously provided food for us! Great place to go on a Sunday afternoon!

Down-Down’s included talk about the R-word, early/late arrivers, no mugs!, and Butt-Floss for having a heart-on! We then ponied in for another pitcher and people began disappearing.

Surprisingly, some stayed:
.

Finally, Ballwrinkle decided that it was time for Dances to go home:

But he didn’t want to go:

… It was definitely time to go though:

Until next time!
On-On

Calvin Klimax