PRINCETON HHH HASH #532.4 Date: November 19, 1995 Weather: Dark Venue: Chester, NJ Time: ~2 h Set By: Pushnermaybe and Nightmare Hashers: Wrong Way, Geezer, Delay LLLama, Trash Can, Annemarie Stroustrup, Nameless Neidre, TFM, Wacko, Rojo, Big Steve Visitors: Crapper from Rumson, Primordial Flooz from Summit Still Missing: The Big, Blue, Three-Wheeled Van Descriptions, comments, polemics, and lies: Nightmare Wacko forgot the directions, so we set off intrepidly for the Far North looking only for a Shopping Mawl somewhere in the distant reaches of Route 206. About the only thing that went right that day was the remarkable skill the pack used in finding the start. There, we were warned by the Ambiguous One (who remembers how Pushner got his name? Not I.) of a Great Swamp which would confront us shortly before the beer break. And so it was. The pack might well be forgiven (although of course it won't be) for being unanimous in its choosing of the Chicken Trail and its concomitant eschewing of the Eagle Trail straight across the swamp. Any Eagles would have been confronted not with some miasmatic, but merely murky swamp, but instead with what might better be described as a lake with occasional tufts of swamp grass. No one born without fins or wings would have made it. So, around we went, arriving at the beer break at 0.55, a suitable endpoint many would have said. But no. At this point Nightmare took over the set, and proved worthy of her (new) name. Up the hill we toiled, weary footsies plodding along what seemed to be near vertical asphalt. Finally back into the woods only to become lost on a hillside in the descending gloom. Finally, marks were discovered at the edge of a field, and the pack traversed a stubble-filled ridge line towards the verge where sat two menacing folks in orange vests. Most of the pack headed downhill, away from the strangers, and were rewarded with marks leading to a splendid graveyard. Those brave enough to confront the strangers found them unaccountably civil. The two sagacious seers spoke ambiguously of marks seen far from the graveyard, where most of the pack was now busily, if futilely prospecting for further flour. There was none to be found, and, as the dark was now falling like the proverbial anvil on a mouse,* a somewhat desperate regroup was called. *Actually, there is no such proverb, but surely there should be. Here it is in Papuan: Na A'Apol Ka'ani -uu No Makaki Van'ai-tuu At any rate, we sensibly decided to get our collective behinds out of the graveyard and back to Route 206, a task easier to undertake than complete. Through the woods, and out onto a road in The Lost Suburb from Hell. "Follow the road at the end, Hester Street" we were advised by one of the Lost Suburbians, but Hester Street was nowhere to be found. Finally, all the hashing instincts that had so dramatically failed us earlier reasserted themselves and we found ourselves on Route 206 at some indeterminate distance North or South of the cars. The setters? Boozing it up by some warm fireside no doubt. Mercifully, the only building in sight was a Bar and Grill. Saved! Well, not exactly. We had $2.25 between us and the bar featured 16 oz steaks for $9, and an array of extremely unsavory folks bellying up to the bar. Surely this would not deter veterans of the Bellemeade Inn! Indeed it did not, and Wacko and Wrong Way were dispatched to find the cars while Rojo appealed to the barmadchen for beer credit. Much to the consternation of the assembled barflies, she was successful and the bedraggled pack remnants settled down to replenish their precious bodily fluids. We pondered the fate of Wacko and Wrong Way, and considered what creatures might be the source of those nine-buck steaks. Eventually the door burst open, and a defiant Pushnermaybe appeared. Hashcash ransomed the pack, and we set out for the Apres, held appropriately at Chez Nightmare. Nightmare herself was allegedly out running in the dark looking for us. We wished her well, but no swift deliverance from her search. Fortune, who had hitherto turned her fair face far away from us, now beamed down directly upon us. Whatever you say about Pushnermaybe, and it's probably a lot after this run, he makes good chili. Because of this, and the decent soup, we will not remark on the dreadful designer beer he served. A schizophrenic 6 STEGS on Your Scribe's Magnificence Meter. Next Hashes: #533.4 Sunday, November 26th, 2 pm, The Cuban Assassin sets. There will be no Chicken Trails on this hash, you wimps. You'll be Eagles all. #534.4 Sunday, December 3rd, Wrong Way and The Madam set #535.4 Sunday, December 10th, Eyesore sets #536.4 Sunday, December 17th, IUTHW and RoJo set #537.4 Sunday, December 31st, 2 pm, Toxic Waste sets.