PHHH Run # 1236.9
Date: Jan 3, 2009
Name:      The Freezing Cold Hash 2009
Hare:        Ken Vercammen a.k.a. Johnny CockRAN
Hounds:    80 plus, including Just John, Thyroid Mary, Comfort, Eurotrash and CliffDiver
Weather:  Freezing Cold, sunny
Where:     Ken Vercammen's Law Office, Edison, NJ
Time:       10:30  Duration: 4 miles 1 hour 15 minutes

80 plus gathered at the law office of Ken Vercammen in Edison. Local news reporters interviewed hashers
before, during and after the jaunt through the streets, woods and fields of this lower middle class 'burb.
Photo shots were taken in front of the law office, a cape cod style house where a family probably lived before
being evicted. Chalk talk was given to the masses by the P.T. Barnum of local hashing, the esteemed barrister
himself, Ken V. This year a $10 fee was charged, to cover costs of hard liquor on trail and before the hash
start. The money also went to pay for the shamelessly self-promotional yellow "MY Lawyer Fights For Me"
T-Shirts that Ken used to hand out for free. Only the newbies forked over the 10 bucks. This writer did contribute
out of respect for the previous work that Ken has done, and the jello-shots.
This run gets a mix of runners from the Jersey Shore Running Club, the Raritan Running Club, lawyer cronies
of Ken's, college kids, middle-aged men and women, Rumson Hashers,Summit Hashers, dogs, carpet-baggers and 
snake-oil salemen, all in search of flour. All took off down Woodbridge Avenue for a half mile before heading out 
into a small park with flat frozen fields. There were a few early checks to get everyone confused, but the course 
eventually led down a ravine into the local woods. Soon, a hard-liquor check appeared, set up on the tailgate of 
a 1989 Dodge Caravan. Pine Beach 5K race director Sally Kellerman wore her traditional skull and cross-bones 
halter top while dispensing sherry, bourbon, creme de menthe, vodka, gin, and tequila. And jello-shots. All to 
keep the chill away on this 25 degree sunny morning.  The hashers stumbled away from the shot check to continue 
the course, which wound its way down to a river. A more elaborate shot check was set up under an aquaduct-like 
span a mile or so later. I guess Ken was trying to get rid of the old booze in his liquor cabinet. Hashers 
stayed and cavorted at this check for about 15 minutes before moving on. More cruising up and down steep inclines 
and declines ensured, as newbies asserted their new knowledge of checks and markings on trail.  One entertaining 
moment came up when about 10 hashers were trying to scale a water runoff cement slab that was partially covered 
in ice. Cliff found a 15 pound bowling ball and sprinted up the concrete slab to bowl over the contestants. 
A warning shout was given before the ball rolled then bounced down the 20 foot drainage alley. No one was hit, 
but a few jumped out of the way, leaving a nasty six-two split. Everywhere there were hashers running in yellow 
shirts, now muddy and blocking out the advertisements. Just John and Thyroid were drinking in all of the sights, 
sounds and shots in full karmic justice to their debut debacle of a week before. Comfort was keeping sane and 
sober, as she had to drive herself and Cliffy back to Prospect.  All headed over to the Green Derby Bar on 
Woodbridge Avenue, where sullen bartenders dispensed crappy domestic beer. Stupid human tricks were being 
performed such as one armed pushups, best breasteses contest, arm wresting, pool, and strange food eating.  
Comfort had to work that afternoon, so the Corolla made its way back to
Prospect with its human cargo. Shitty Hash, Ken!

Cliff Diver