ReHash #193

Sunday’s Hash was one of the more memorable in recent memory (by that I mean a week or two). The first notable observation was the large number of virgins on this hash – at least 8. First it was the "Gang of Four" freshmen e-mailers and now a bunch of virgin hashers. There really are more stupid people around Ithaca than one realizes. Roy, Kate’s new dog, must have known that there would be lots of virgins at the hash, because he was raring to go. Good thing she had a strong leash.

The second notable event was a question that HotLips asked the new hashers during the explanation of the rules – You all can swim, can’t you? What premonition! But more about this later. Like lemmings we bounded off down Tower Road and over the hill to Beebe Lake, then up the hill to the observatory, then down the hill to Fall Creek, then up the hill to the Plantations . . . you get the idea. Checkpoints were as rare as dry pavement, but the first Hash Rest occurred rather soon, underneath the concrete X^2 – 4XY + Y^2 in the Plantations. John C. showed up at that point, just in time to start a snowball fight. Attention was quickly diverted to the two females engaged in a wrestling match in the snow and mud. Good thing Roy hadn’t caught up yet.

We were off again, up hill of course, then across the sled riding hill where we destroyed the sledding paths that the children spent all afternoon making. Then we ran down, then up, then down and across the footbridge, then up, up, up and up, to the top of the hill where the horses were. We slogged over to the golf course, then down an incredibly steep hill cover with ice and snow. At the bottom was a long piece of barbed wire hanging strategically from a tree to catch any unsuspecting hashers who were conditioned to look at their feet instead of straight ahead.

The hash marks led us back to the trail that runs along Fall Creek. But where was the "T"???? By this time, some people’s shoes were getting wet, but just to make sure that no one was left out, the hares led us right across the creek. The first 10 to 15 feet weren’t so bad. Then exoruciating pain began to rush from the toes to the calf muscles. But by the time the pain was unbearable, one was closer to the other side so it didn’t seem reasonable to turn around. After a few more feet the throbbing stopped as numbness set in. It wasn’t so bad after all – but then the current picked up and the rocks were awfully slippery. Then there was that high stone wall on the bank, and Deb sitting in her warm car throwing verbal assaults at the unambulatory hashers. Amazingly, no one died or had to be pulled out. The swim was really good for Roy.

Another amazing observation – all but 4 hashers went across the creek (Shultze was one of them, of course, but can we really consider him a hasher?). This validates my point about the absolute lack of common sense that exists around here. I believe it was Kris who told me later, "I’d rather shortcut and drink than wade across that icy-cold creek!" Someone give her a Ph.D.

There was only one hill to climb by this point, so with frozen extremities (especially Roy’s) we slogged back to the Biotech Building where we proceeded to trash the meeting room. Since Klaus will be expelled shortly for letting us all inside, we will be collecting an extra 25 cents at the next Hash to help him with moving expenses.

The awards flowed like beer from a keg. Pokeurhinus got the Hash Crash, but Sherry got the Muddy Butt Award which she obtained quite early in the hash. Chris got the BLAB because she made John C. late again. The Hashit shirt wearer got a down-down for temporarily washing the shirt in the slush, and Kate got to drink for Roy. We all bid farewell to Michelle who is off to work with monkeys in the Caribbean. So, if you know of anyone else who spends their time studying monkeys, adopting horney dogs, or is prone to other senseless endeavors, please let them know about the hash.