PRINCETON HHH HASH #928.2 Date: April 6, 2003 Weather: printemps Venue: 300 Elm Old Folks Home to Johnson Park School Set: Bjorn Dork Time: ca. 1 hour Hashers: HYP, Hand Solo, Steve Andrews, Brain Injury Volunteer, Chris the rookie, WeePee Brain Injury Volunteer's Outdoor Action Committee "And that's how Stonewall Jackson won the battle of Port Republic, using the topography of the Shenandoah Valley to his tactical advantage." Jay-sus, she was still standing there, her eyes unglazed, blond hair glinting under the lights of the Terrace Club's disco ball. "Gosh, Jessica, I want to see you again. But how. . .?" She tossed her head and gave the shy Virginian a sly smile. The disco beat segued into Sylvester's "You Make Me Feel." "How would you like some . . . Outdoor Action?" "Whooa, really?" "Sure, just meet me behind 87 Prospect tomorrow at 2. Don't forget Daylight Savings. Bye." And she melted into the crowd. Doubtless our rookie was a little disappointed to find other men gathered for some OA, courtesy of Bjorn Dork, who claimed to have toured the course twice, forgotten about Daylight Savings, and appeared equipped with only a pocketful of flour, which not even Ouipee would do. Chris might also have been disappointed with the evaporation of any apparent marks from the check by the Johnson Park School baseball field, leading the pack to explore the woods and trails leading to Rosedale Road, the construction site and bike path across the road, and both sides of the Stony Brook. Given the habitual if theoretical return to campus on many of Dork's sets, all agreed that he had probably somehow doubled back and might be following the Brook back to Community Park and thence to his dorm room. Hand and Steve even thought they had seen marks behind them as they went southwest. It made sense but no marks were seen on the return to Elm Road, and a brief tour to the bridge betrayed no sign of flour. The hash did, however, take in the blooming wild crocuses and Steve nearly got his ass whupped by Mother Goose, who hissed at him as he stumbled along the river bank toward her nest. This was no consolation for those seeking beer rather than eggs, leading Steve to lay some of his custom-made oviraptorous amertume on Bjorn's voicemail, and on Captain Lame-O's for good measure, when the depleted pack (Hand and HYP now MIA) realized no one knew where exactly Dork resided. So Chris, good sport that he is, got his outdoor action, even if it wasn't the kind he an--ti--ci---- (say it!) pated, and he may yet bivouac with BIV. Heard on the Hash: Concerned walker to Steve: "Are you alright? Have you lost a child?" Date: April 7, 2003 Time: 2am Place: 300 Elm Old Folks Home to Mountain Lake Preserve onto Mike's Tavern Time: 1h 30 min Set: Bjorn Dork Hashers: Monica, Steve Deciding that perhaps there was something to Goldie Locke's set that I failed to realize in my hung over state earlier this morning I recruit some assistance, and set off again on the trail 12 hours after the initial debacle. Relying too much on the old men earlier this morning, over an hour was spent chasing phantom marks down the initial brook. I confess that I was seeing white marks everywhere this morning in addition to the more or less persistent stars from the night before, and definitely seems that others must have as well. Sure enough a little bit farther down Elm Road from the start the hare had taken off of the woods and left a double crossed arrow heading across Elm Road away from Johnson Park School. Even with flashlights in the dark the trail was very well marked, seems that there was some flour after all. Considerable time was spent on the ground trying to discern whether it was bird shit or flour we were seeing, but looped through the neighborhoods into the back of Mountain Nature Preserve. Looped around the lake, considered swimming across but headed acrosss the dam. Hell of a lot of birdshit that resembled geese. Ended up at Mike's Tavern after following then not following marks that might have been there. We pounded on the door to no avail, and had to settle for some half empty cans found out in the back. Guess we were a couple hours late. Figure the late night run was worth at least a tenth of a hash, as the first one was just a poor hungover attempt on the part of the hounds. Got fooled by a loop at the very beginning, the entire pack. Seemed like a couple hundred pounds of flour couldn't have saved us.