Who cares about copious amounts of sleet, snow or rain? Cumbridge still hashes! We're the fucking postal service of hashing, bitches! Six brave souls showed up to hash with Cumbridge this Friday despite the lack of a bag car or even visibility.
Hare: Krusty the Meat Miser
Pack: Pubic Service Announcement, Sugar Plum Fairy, High Anus, Cum is Kosher, 'Ed Master and General Ass Pounder (aka GAP)
Pre-lube: Whitney's Cafe in Harvard Square
On-In: Sports Depot Restaurant, Allston, MA (Cumbridge, not just ending on the red line anymore!)
On-After: The Pill @ Great Scott, Allston, MA
Trail began when the hare broke the news that, no Virginia, there wasn't a bag car. As the pack came to terms with the idea of carrying their bags through the snow the hare, using chalk and a printed map in the corner of the bar, did some recalculating (read: drinking) and trimmed trail from 3.3 miles to 2. Yay cartography!
While the pack continued to stay warm with cold beer and straight up shots, shouts of 'Hares away' sent me packing and into the snow drifts of Harvard Square. Trail wound through Harvard, over the JFK bridge into the Harvard athletic fields, over a few fences and out onto Wester Ave in Allston. The pack, however, never knew any of this. The beers were too cold and the shots too good so by the time they left the bar, the bright blue trail marks had been covered by falling snow.
PSA, who would later drink for using technology on trail called the hare 3 times for a trail update. She had to speak loudly to be heard over the sounds of the snow orgy that was occurring in the background. After the 3rd call, the hare realized that nearly 5 lbs of bright blue flour had gone unseen by the pack. He backtracked to a bus stop on N. Harvard St where the pack, hauling their bags, caught up. The last mile of trail was quick as the pack only gave the hare 6.9 seconds before tearing through the snow after him.
Reservations had been made for a back room at the on-in, Sports Depot Restaurant, in order to avoid disturbing the norms. This proved unnecessary as the pack doubled the number of customers in this fine establishment. Still, beer was ordered and the back room doubled as a changing room while cries of "Trail of the year!" (sarcasm) and "Naked snow angels for the hare!" (not sarcasm) were heard.
The waiter tried to seat the pack but was instead told that dark rituals (aka 'circle') needed to be performed first.
After a gathering of the pack and a down-down for the hare by GAP, it was Krusty the Meat Miser who took over. In addition to the usual FRB/FBI, visitor and smaht kid down-downs, there were 2 Cumbridge namings this circle.
Cum is Kosher declared herself a Cumbridge virgin and was summarily demented by High Anus (and the peanut gallery) before proving herself worthy of hashing on the Red Line. From this day forward, Cum is Kosher shall be known as Cougar Consulting (motto: mauling younger men since 2004) in the CH3.
GAP, also a Cumbridge virgin kneeled in circle and was given the CH3 moniker TittyHead due to PSAs rack fitting snugly atop his head when at that height.
Namings were also attempted for both Krusty and PSA but they hadn't done anything galactically dumb enough to merit a Cumbridge name.
Finally, the condom down-down was performed (sans condom) by someone.
Circle was wrapped with a rousing version of 'Today is Monday' and the pack then summoned the frightened waiter to serve them. After changing back into now semi-dry clothes, the pack trudged through the snow to Great Scott to do some dancing at the Pill. Fuck the weather, we're hashing!
Krusty the Meat Miser