BFM #6
Posted on April 1, 2004
01 April 04: The hash this week started at Good Dog (formerly Frank Clement’s Tavern), but Good Dog was deemed too good for the likes of this mob. So the mob removed itself down the street to McGlinchey’s, home of testy waitresses, cheap beer, and hot dogs of questionable origin.
Urban Terrorist was kind enough to draw chalk arrows on the sidewalk from one bar to the other so auto hashers could find their way. She caught the attention of a very pierced graduate of the Edward Scissorshands school of fashion, who started chatting with her as she moved along. What he said was unclear. Probably for the best.
Just JP drew the short straw, making him the second virgin hare in as many weeks. Steeling himself for this unwelcome responsibility, Just JP grabbed the flour, which was supplied compliments of Bastard Child, and disappeared into the night. Self Service was kind enough to stay at the bar and watch everyone’s bags. The mob was feeling aggressive, and gave the hare a head start of only three minutes instead of the usual five. Still couldn’t catch him, though. The bastid.
Just JP’s trail crossed the Avenue of the Arts, past City Hall, and through the crowds and traffic at the heart of Center City. At least one of Philly’s finest asked what we were doing, and a number of concerned citizens asked if everything was `ok’. When you see a bunch of people running in a group, looking at the ground, and yelling, it’s probably natural to be concerned. Fortunately nobody saw it as their duty to make a citizen’s arrest and tackle the FRB.
By and large the mob stuck together, making sure everyone stayed on trail. At one point Just Tom was feared lost, but he reappeared just as the mob was about to move on. C*nting Season’s "on on"s echoed echoed off the buildings buildings. Though a virgin hare, Just JP made good use of arrows, which were a welcome sight on a trail that featured many checks and false trails. The trail even had some shiggy, if by "shiggy" one means a dark alley lined with overflowing dumpsters and sticky restaurant kitchen waste.
Back at the ranch, Self Service managed to hold a line of tables for the mob. Yeungling Porter and Rolling Rock were plentiful, which didn’t help matters. Made of stern stuff, however, the mob drank many pitchers. For some reason, the waitress was determined to serve us hot dogs. She shouted, "who wants the dog and kraut," but it sounded like, "who wants the dog and crap," which didn’t help matters.
The auto hash contingent was smaller than the running contingent this time. Lunar Digit was the first auto hasher to appear, having followed the chalk trail laid by Urban Terrorist. Cause for Blindness also found her way, attracted to a nearby giant check mark, when she noticed "on in" written on the sidewalk in front of the bar. Little F****ing Winky made a rare auto hashing appearance. Thinking it was Tuesday, he was surprised to see us all there.
(Actually, he had been setting up tomorrow’s Full Moon Hash, which he is co-haring with Bastard Child).
Shitty trail, shitty bars, and an altogether BFM.
On on.
Filed Under Trash |
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