IH3 Trail #413

Rehash — weekend of 10/24/2003

It was the weekend before Halloween, and all through Ithaca, the ghosts and ghoulies were getting restless. One hash wasn’t enough for those wankers, so they had three.

Friday, October 24th, at the Big Red Barn, happy hour began with a CO2 tank being dropped on Extra Testicle’s foot, which caused much pain. Still, ET and his crew tapped the kegs, and there was much rejoicing. I (Dances With Head) arrived and was soon greeted by Half Monty, Butt Floss, Little Oral Annie, Just Pat, her friend Just Linda, LOA’s friend Just Lynn, Little Miss Muffet, Grande Chucha (sp?), and Harry Condom Jr. With the $1 saranac’s flowing readily, we all shared our relief that it was finally Friday. But the barn was crowded, and our humble host ET soon announced to all that all of the kegs (6 or 7) had been kicked, and our bringer of bad news made a hasty retreat from the angry multitude.

Shortly after 7 some wankers bid us goodbye, and others joined our ranks. Grande Chucha introduced Yet-To-Be-Named New Mooners Sara, Angela, Andrea, Mark, and Mike. And off to the downtown Commons we went for some grub, for the mob was restless and hungry. I lead the deranged mob to Benchwarmer’s, where the bar and tables were packed, but were able to get fed, and served a few pitchers of beer to boot. While there, Just Pat found her "One Huge Piece of Meat," and Pussy Pong joined in on the fun, arriving about when tabs were being settled.

On-on we went, with the harriers on my heels, to Moonshadow’s Tavern for a few pitchers of good swill. It turned out that Monty was on good behavior and some of the harrierettes were enjoying his company, while Grande and Pussy Pong touched sluts and the YTBN crew (Mark, Mike, Angela and Sara) through sharp objects at the wall. The next bar, Chanticleer, was more of the same . . . pitchers of swill, playing with sticks and balls (pool), getting a few games of pinball in, and putting some tunes on the jukebox. Soon Just James joined us, and helped us drink down the rest of the pitchers so that those of us who hadn’t gone home yet could go onto one last bar. These few troopers strutted over to Pete’s Cayuga Bar to close out the night with more beer and talk of Monty Python. Well after last call we toasted to the hash, and parted satisfied.