PRINCETON HHH HASH #1027.9

Date: Sunday, February 13, 2005

Place: Rosedale Park-Stony Brook

Weather: Clement

Time: An hour

Hare: Count von Count

Hounds: Hand Solo, Hey YO! Paully, Geezer, Ouipee, Delicate Psyche, Safety Tits, Safe Sweats, 
Nuttin' Stuck, Judson of PU

Rookies: Al once of Hong Kong HHH, Lauren once of Ithaca HHH

Straight On Til Yawning

From Rosedale's main parking lot, CvC basically set an azimuth along the Stony Brook, across 
the dormant fields of two peaceable Baluchi farmers awaiting the spring poppy planting.  
Shortly afterwards, along the banks of the river, there was a regroup at the twelth checkmark 
in a row to indicate due east.  Geezer thought it typical that we should have lost both 
visitors by this point while retaining Safe Sweats, but Big Al and Lauren arrived in time to 
follow a Wachspress double cross across the lawn and past the gazebo of an Uzbek opium trader.

The inevitabel arrow appeared sometime to cross the river, which the visitors reluctantly did, 
led in part by the examples of the hosts, who didn't want to let down the PHHH's reputation 
although the bridge was a 100 yards further downstream.

The pack concluded at the hujra by the Province Line Bridge, where local Pakhtun youths treated 
us with the respect and hospitality befitting the practice of milmastia.  One went so far as to 
give Hey YO! Paully his Blade scooter.  Lauren, playing it close to the vest, refused to 
acknowledge any connection to Ice Blue Balls, and sneered at our terrain. Al was reasonably 
more impressed, his synapses having frayed 22 years since his last hash in Hong Kong.  
Naturally the on-in went down down from there, there hardly being enough beer to give 
participants a bottle-capful.  Voices rose, there was a song, not so lewd as last week's, and 
then callous littering of inorganic banana peels on local property.  One could see the hackles 
of the youths' father rising as we sauntered over the bridge to the cars past him and more 
children pounding their dirty laundry with rocks in the stream, defiling his children's ears 
with foul words, and the sacred river with our refuse.  We could see him preparing to assert 
badal, the right of revenge, a prompt settling of slights real or imagined.  But his children, 
entertained by the clownish crowd, took a page from the tribal elders and prevailed on him to 
accept the tribal custom of ninevatey.  Forelocks were pulled, a schlep was slaughtered, and 
we continued on our way.

Next up: Homoerotic Tick Checking introduces his wanker pals to Granma Turkmen!