PRINCETON HHH HASH #842.4

Date: 8/22/2001
Weather: summery
Venue: Below, up, and over the Sauerlands
Set by: Hand Solo
Time: 1:15
Hashers:  Discomfort, Hey Yo Paully, Juicy, RoJo, Dummer, Alan Braun, Ouipee, 
Uranus Williams, Nonsensei, Dancing Fool 
Heard at the On-In: "That Llloda's a thrasher!"--Rojo

Discomfort's Long Goodbye

A shitty hash, with something for everyone.  There was shiggy, grassy trails, an 
abandoned house, multiple falses, a jar of Chinese pepper sauce, some slogging along 
a streambed full of milky gray water or maybe trichloroethylene, a mountain to run 
up, rocks to twist ankles on, a plummeting descent, and lots of leftover beer from 
Solo's last set.

But Discomfort was disconsolate.  Trailing behind again in the Sauerlands, no one as usual 
waiting for her as she clambered over the rock fields and eked out marks in the gloaming.  
Is this how her dedication, her devotion to the Princeton Hash would be repaid?  By golly, 
she deserved better--that bunch of no-account 20- and 30-somethings . . . grrrr. . . Dark 
thoughts clouded her brow when up ahead she spotted--No, it couldn't be! "Are you alright?  
It's getting dark, and this is a pretty tricky path." Alan, the muscular young engineer 
appeared in the twilight.    "Aw, no, Alan, you don't have to worry about me," Discomfort 
smiled.  "We've been here before."  "Gee, that's right, I mean, you have, this is all new 
to me.  I hear you've hashed more than anyone but Geezer and Wacko."   Discomfort smiled 
again at the admiring novice.  "Now who told you that? Not in Princeton, but yeah, maybe 
if you included hashes in England, Crete, Sudan, Bangalore, Xinjiang, the Falklands . . ."
"Gosh, Discomfort, I'm just a rookie out here, and you've hashed all over the world.  I 
guess you've had some pretty wild experiences.  You must think Princeton's pretty tame in 
comparison."  She flipped a lock of her tousled red mane.  "Welll, yeah, it's not like 
having to dance the pentozali for eight hours at an on-in in Crete, or do down-downs of 
aragi and eat termites in Omdurman."    "Termites--that's awesome.  Watch your step there--"
Discomfort stumbled on some pine needles and fell as Alan reached out.  "Discomfort! Are you 
alright?"  His concern was palpable, worry lines creasing his forehead as he knelt beside her.
She looked up, pupils big and dark as millponds, glinting in the rising moon.  "You're too 
kind. Call me Lenore," she said, taking his hand.  Some time later the happy couple emerged 
from the woods and walked around the far side of the pond to the on-in.  No one could quite 
make out if they were holding hands, and only Rojo really cared.  But she could afford to be 
magnanimous, for whatever took place on the hillside with Alan would not be repeated--not 
without her, anyway.