In order to attain the blessed 69 (yea, verily, the 69) numeration for the Red Dress in April, mis-management saw the need an extra run on the calendar. So, eschewing the typical Full Moon Hash, the Halve Mein HHH held its first Half Moon Hash, honoring the memory of Albany's discover, Henry Hudson, and his ship the Half Moon (that's Halve Mein in Flemish). Enough of the freakin' history lesson.

While certainly a great idea on paper, unfortunately, this particular Half Moon was in JANUARY, after dark, on the coldest day in years. How cold was it? As the forecast predicted -8 and windchill to -25, most sane hashers expected the run to be cancelled. And the pack received word from the hares at noon, cheerily advising us to layer up to avoid "irreversible shrinkage". So it was that TEN intrepid hashers turned out at the Lionheart for the first Half Moon Hash. McCavity, Dr. Queer, Peace O'Chum, PopTop, Francis, Dirtbag, THFKAD, Sperm Bank, and Stickley Bunz. And, finally, Astro Homo, wearing (I'm not making this up) a t-shirt and boxers. Stickley, fearing permanent damage, loaned Astro her face mask which Astro promptly shoved down his boxers.

After a few drafts of Lionheart's excellent collection of draft beers, the hash gingerly stepped outside to tackle the trail. After a rousing "My name is Joe", they were off into the frozen tundra of Washington Park. The hares had laid the trail with blue flour, cleverly forgetting that the sodium street lights totally wash out that particular hue. However, using the incredibly clever tactic of following fresh footprints and crudely drawn arrows in the snow, the pack was able to not get lost for ten minutes. After wondering hopelessly around the skating pond for seeming hours, THFKAD found the trail leading back to Madison Avenue and Ralph's Tavern. Stumbling gratefully into the empty bar (empty because everyone except the truly alcoholic and hashers were staying in their warm houses that night) the pack was welcome with two pitchers of cold beer. The pack shared a moment as they mutually reveled in the pain of circulation returning to their extremities. That would be their feet and hands as any other extremities had already crept back into our bodies to nestle against other internal organs for warmth.

While seriously considering mutiny, the pack good-naturedly bundled back up for the second half of the run. For Astro, this meant just putting his mittens back on. Back into the Artic hell of Washington Park, beating off slavering wolves and jumping across ice flows as we went. Once again the pack was cleverly deceived by someone who at some time put white paint handprints on tree trunks. Backtracking, they found the true trail across the footbridge where Sperm Bank stopped to pee icicles (and at the temperature it was not an exaggeration). Onward trudging through the desolate student ghetto when, at the corner of Western and Quail, THFKAD whispered, "Be vewy, vewy quiet, I think I see a wabbit!" and tore off to snare the hare who, disoriented by the cold, was setting trail away from the on-on. The rest of the pack followed Peace O'Chum who said, "Screw this, the on-on's at my house, let's go get warm."

Ceremonies were in Peace's graduate student chic apartment. McCavity did a down-down for a haring a bitchin' cold run and using white flour on white snow. Dr. Queer earned a down-down in absentia as he bailed at the beer check to sign up for a party with some non-hashers. THFKAD also plastered McCavity with half a sack of flour for the hare being snared. Dirtbag earned DAL - Dead Ass Lost - for missing the trail out of Ralph's and using a cell phone to find the pack. The hash crime was easily won by Dr.Queer for bailing on the hash and stout-hearted McCavity did the down-down on his behalf. Astro Homo, looking like he needed a chapstick the size of a fire extinguisher, down-downed for backsliding since he's not made an appearance since Hoosick. And, Bodsa, coming off her shift at the hospital, was punished for being late and proceeded to suck, swallow, and hurl her down-down. From there, a few hashers adjourned to the Washington Tavern for psuedo-beer and munchies.

On-On!

If you have anything to add, send a note to thfkad@hmhhh.com.