Date: Wed, 12 Jul 1995 09:02:23 -0400 (EDT)
A small group of faithful hashers arrived at the corner of Plain and Court the Sunday before last. We milled around for half an hour or so, not initially alarmed by the conspicuous absence of the hares. It is a sad fact that the hares decided their own trail unworthy of finding, and better left in a haze of great confusion. Oh, woe to the hash. Eventually our errant religious advisor was convinced, by the continual running off of various hashers in search of the trail, that he should explain the hash to the bewildered virgins. As I was off checking out the trail, I can only imagine that he unsuccessfully attempted to impart words of great wisdom to the innocent, trusting souls. As we had found the trail long before BamBam was finished blabbing, in no time at all we were all pounding the (concrete, knee-jarring, heat-reflecting) pavement.
Initially, there were familiar lines of chalk along the road. Comforting horizontal slashes leading to the odd X or O. These sweet little lines took us into a park of a reasonable innocuous appearance. How were we to know the cruel stroke twisted hares were about to deliver? The first clue that things were going wrong was a circlearound a perfectly healthy and happy tree. Oh, dear, no hares dangling from the upper branches. But what was that? A single sheet of paper, appropriately enough titled "Welcome to the 1st annual clue less hash" And a clue or two. A bell, a Greek orthodox church, the state theaterDishonorable Discharge, forever the patriot, immediately dashed off in search of the bell with Microprick and Blackhole in hot pursuit. Wet and Sticky, Cocktail, Bubbles and myself wondered aimlessly around a few Greek orthodox churches in vague search of more pieces of paper. The rest of the hash seemed convinced that Tex held the magic key to the kingdom, and ran off with her, no doubt to lazily imbibe vast quantities of beer while the rest of us did the dirty work. Somehow, the hash, minus the three dastardly devils initially identified, came together again somewhere on the roads of downtown Ithaca. Trojan was absolutely certain that he had seen a mark next to Purity, and as the thought of an ice cream stop seemed logical, no one objected when he suggested we sprint down there at warp speed to check it out. Unfortunately, my sense of direction in any town with more than 3 houses is abysmal, so it was obvious to me that I would have to keep up with the crowd or risk walking around the streets of Ithaca for the next 7 hours. (And miss the beer.) Not surprisingly, I arrived at Purity gasping for breath. Trojan humbly pointed out that our wee little 2 mile diversion was for nought, as the mark he so cleverly sighted happened to be paint. Shouldnt he have bought us all ice cream for such an indiscretion? As we milled around wondering what to do, a toothless woman snapped at me, "Aren’t you going to give your dog water?" .’No, actually, I wasn’t planning on it. I’ll be sure she gets a drink as soon as I do.’ I smiled pleasantly and presumed the dialogue was over. "Dogs are different than humans, you know," old toothless growled and scowled at me. "That’s true," said I, still smiling pleasantly, "they ARE different. For instance, Darby not only gets water whenever I do, she also gets it at every stream or other body water we come to. Now I thank you for your concern, but I assure you, you neednit worry." At that point I turned my back on the very bitter and angry woman, and rolled my eyes at the various hashers who had found the conversation rather amusing.
As we were all obviously in a state of disorder, BamBam, as any good religious advisor should, took the helm and rushed us all to the park with the bell. On the bell was a piece of tape. False Erection tried hard to lift the 5000 lb. monstrosity in case those 3 dirty devils had been inspired to slip the clue under the bell (you know, just for laughs), but, much to his surprise, he was unable to budge the thing even an inch. Strange how that works, isn’t it? Meanwhile, BamBam ran slowly along the bank of the stream. He seemed inspired, so I followed him for a while until it was obvious he was as clueless as the rest of us. I’m not quite sure who decided where we would search next, and I really dont remember our route. All I remember was what seemed like miles of hot, nasty pavement stretched before us with no pretty little white lines guiding the way. Various people hopped in and out of the stream on the way, but it’s all rather a haze to me now as to who did what and where. Eventually we found ourselves in Cascadilla park. Chalk scratched on a rock in the wall attested to the previous presence of DD, MP, and BH. BamBam was, for reasons unknown to me (although probably something to do with false erectionummm, I mean intuition), set on leading everyone up the gorge, ignoring the arrows set by DD and company. Bubbles and I decided those arrows were as good a bet as any, and up the hill we went. Pretty soon we entered a graveyard. Mournful cries of ”On On!’ were heard, and we were on trail. It was unfortunate that the hash, starting off with some 30 people or so, was down to 5. However, led by our lusty shouts of encouragement, Tex soon joined us, assuring us that others were behind her. Trying to follow herstriving to keep upwe didnt see any point in waiting, as this was obviously a lost cause from the beginning. Soon we were running around the graveyard, and if it weren’t for my incredible sense of direction (once on a trail), we would have looped around the graveyard endlessly. Blackhole and Microprick both dashed right by the clue leading out of the loop, then stood around looking helpless and wheezing weakly, .’Aarrree youuu???’ Of course, I was, so I quickly led them down the correct path. DD continued to write clues on the pavement for the remaining clueless hashers to follow, so there were a few people who made it to the metal suspension bridge in college town (no, I haven’t the foggiest notion of what the name of the darn thing is). Karen 2, a new hasher and a visitor to boot, was among the few, the proud, the unlucky. She looked bewildered, so I kindly told her not all hashes were quite as exhausting, and she shouldnt be afraid to come back. Pretty soon we were all off and running again-DD had phoned Shiner (or was that later?) and received further instructions, which he faithfully wrote and drew on the road. Then we ran up hills and down hill and across roads, and eventually there were 8 of us left going down the slope and into the gorge. There should have been 9, but FourBallsBob made up a weak excuse about having to meet someone at 6, and then turned up at the On In at the same time as those of us who stayed on trail. Exactly what was he doing with all that extra time??
Bubbles tried hard to convince us that we should look for clues upstream, but as we had been running for almost 2 hours now, it seemed obvious to me that we should go downstreamin the direction of the beer. Everyone else agreed pretty readily. We ran in the water for ages, and then various people started scrambling up a sheer wall. I felt that I may be able to climb the wall, but Darby was looking a little tired. Bubbles, Karen 1, and slackhole, nobly (foolishly?) stayed with the dog owners, Wet-and-Sticky and I. Eventually we came to a very steep hill that looked almost climbable, and we dragged ourselves up. I dislodged a minor boulder which Wet-and-Sticky stepped in front of-it bounced off him; damn good thing too, because of course that slowed the thing down and prevented it from hitting one of the dogs and doing any real damage. We were half way up the hill when Blackhole realized he was standing on a mark. Look at that! We stayed on trail! Up and down some more hills, ignore some more marks, and we were back at the cars.
0ff everyone went to 209 Esty street to enjoy the celebrations. The choice of a location for down-downs-a cops house-seemed rather inappropriate, but that didnt stop everyone from drinking themselves into a stupor. The owner of the house retreated inside as various people staggered to the cars. Of course, designated drivers were provided for all. I would love to comment on who drank for what indiscretion. BamBam kindly provided me with the list of sins so that I could dutifully record them. I rapidly lost said list. Oops. So, heres my faulty recollection. I heartily apologize for any omissions, mistaken identities, etc. Let’s seewe sang to Shiner and Spike, the hares of this dubious hash. I must say the idea was brilliant (the various clues would have fit together very well had they all been found), but it necessitated a full compliment of hounds. We "honored" DD, BH, and MP for stealing every clue they could find and making the clueless hash truly that. The hares were further honored for cutting it ALL offthey never showed up for their own hash. Those of us that actually ran the majority of the hash were admired for our great wit, endurance, and talent, although I was quite amazed that we werenit questioned on our rather heartless decision to leave Tex in the river and not worry too much about whether she got out or was lying somewhere with a broken ankle. However, that decision can be blamed on Bubbles, who was in the lead and should therefore be sure everyone caught up, and Karen 1, who was bringing up the rear and should therefore be sure everyone was safely swept up. Karen 2 drank for whiiinnnning about the length, heat, and difficulty of the Hash; forcing her to drink was rather unfair as she was probably justified in her whines. Skull either was or should have been the BLAB; he just showed up to drink. Cocktail was honored for his great skill pouring beer, which is entirely appropriate. I was given an award for being the only Hasher at a Hash party the week before who had bothered to wear a bathing suit while swimming, and I was also blessed with Elvis for my innocently handing Hairy Vetch my camera the week before and telling her, at the particular time that Dishonorable was being iced, to do with it what she would. SHE snapped the revealing photos–I merely own the negatives. Various other awards were also given, all of which were of course deviously channeled through the RA, and none of which I can remember (possibly due to my own slightly intoxicated state). Insincere apologies for any mistakes, misconceptions, outright lies, people left out, names confused, toes stepped on, and all that,