Trail #2: 23 December 2000

The sky was partly cloudy with occasional snow flurries, temperature around 0 degrees F with wind chill factor. After a few shots of tequila and huddling by the fire, Cold Cuts pops into the bar around 2:15 and says the trail has been set and we are ready to go. We go outside to find Beaver Bam Bam Balls, Ballwrinkle, Skull, and Haz's dad with some cute young bimbo. The consensus was very quickly reached that it was too fucking cold to run anywhere, at least without a beer or two under the belt first, so we all went into Thirsty's by the fire.  While enjoying the fire and more than a couple of beers (and Ballwrinkle partly repaying me for all the cigarettes he bummed in Hogtown - where I was also too sick to do trail), reminiscing about hashes past, Cold Cuts kept whining about the pack getting on trail and telling how great the scenery was and how short it would be. Access Denied

Let me continue the tale of woe:
The trail was nice, nothing exceptional, as it turns out I picked a poor area, and the snow was a difficult base over which to set. I did manage to use a pedestrian bridge over the Susquehanna river, the pedestrian levels of the Arena and state office building, but other than that, a minor trail, easy to follow, no reason anyone wouldn't make it to the end. Beaver BBB, Ballwrinkle, and Skull didn't make it to the end. I don't know these hashers well, but I know their reputations, and guessed that they stopped at one of the bars we passed on the final approach. I found them in the bar huddled around bright blue pint glasses of Labatts. Back at the first bar Ball Wrinkle ran the circle, dolling out beers for such real and imagined reasons as "haring the trail" (Cold Cuts), "Drove the furthest for the hash" (Cold Cuts), etc (Cold Cuts). I pretty sure the others drank as well, but things started to get a little fuzzy and my memory of the evening starts to get suspect. Another round of Kamikaze's was handed out, and the Rochester contingent started serenading the bar with hash songs I've seen in song books but never heard live. This was rewarded by the bar patrons buying us more pitchers of beer (though to reward our singing talents or occupy our mouths wasn't clear...) I called the wife who picked me up, drove me home and poured me into bed. I rejoined the land of the living sometime Christmas day. Cold Cuts