| Run No:- | 1039 |
Date:- 17th February 2003 |
| Location:- | Klong Toey Port | |
| Hares:- | Roberto Guzman | |
| Scribe:- | Alastair James 'Beefeater' John Atkinson | |
Right, let me talk about the run for a minute. I missed the opening circle as I was being patched up and stitched up by Wolfgang (many thanks Mien Heir). However, I think something was said about some new forms of marking systems. Due to the vespa and I parting company so abruptly on Rama 9, and the ensuing pain, I decided to follow the pack rather than being a FRB. My heart was not really in the run, nor were in fact parts of my legs, toes and arms. However, I made it to the pier just in time and found what resembled a Cambodian refugee boat, brimful with hashers, attempting to escape, as quickly as possible, without paying for the boat. I'm not even sure I could see a Plimsoll line. However, I'm sure Capt. Eric had made sure that we were all 'Ship Shape and Bristol Fashion'. In what slightly resembled a Joseph Conrad novel, the boat meandered rather less gracefully than aimlessly upstream. The phrase reverberated in my mind "Never get off the boat".
The running commenced and within minutes I thought I saw glimpse of 'The Yeti', I could swear I saw it, shuffling along near the back of the pack, huddled and often on all fours. Where was my camera when I needed it? (Of course, still in bits on Rama 9) I was confused and in some amount of pain from the recent acrobatic separation of vespa and hasher, I was obviously becoming delirious. A Yeti!
Then I began to see miniature replicas of crop circles. They seemed to appear on every available flat surface. Or was it a symbolic reference to Ra, the Egyptian sun God. Anyway, the pack moved slowly but constantly through these various phenomena and made its way into the abyss; a myriad of paths, roads and trails and routes. After a few strides and I found myself closer first than last and when after several of the too frequent moments of confusion entered the pack, an 'executive' decision was made by the FRB, 'Fuck it' came the call from TQ who was running around abstractly, asking local K9s if they had seen two people coming 'this way'. The local dogs said that they had never seen anyone coming 'that way' before, but were willing to try anything. TQ ran around some more asking himself questions'. The pack was, by now, more than fifty kilometres into the abyss and just as confused as when it saw the dingy that had been requisitioned as transport to cross the Chow Phrya. From my position at the front - which was still painful as TQ was with us - I could just hear cries of pain from the rapidly diminishing pack. I thought I heard one cry carried through the cool evening air "Never get off the boat". Like a comet entering the earth's atmosphere, the pack began to disintegrate, splintering into the paths and trains. A natural phenomena or a crap trail?
The 'fuck it' call soon proved beneficial as, thanks to Bruce 'Has Hash' Weeks, sorry, 'Hash Hash' Weeks, the FRB soon found themselves amongst more illustrations of crop circles or Ra signs (are they possibly connected?). This, we once more discovered, was the trail. We tirelessly made our way left right left right left right, occasionally a right right then left left, just to confuse ourselves, through the trails and paths and made it to the oasis of the park. AKM had simultaneously both taken advantage of my gammy leg (ack ack over Rama 9) and become bored with TQ's TQ and charged home to lead his own pack, of which there are indeed six members, so I'm told, back to the safety of the river. Fifteen minutes later a select group of FRB were able to view from the vantage point of the ferry back to humanity, the start of the pack beginning to emerge upon the pier. They looked bemused, confused and ready for their boat back to real life. 'I have to provide a boat for them?' was the Hare's retort after being questioned about the lack of the said boat.
So the circle began and I was beginning to get more and more visions, hallucination brought on through pain I thought. The Yeti was back. In fact, on the Yeti's back were very tiny crop circles, or perhaps the Yeti is Ra! Thank you Youst (How the fuck do you spell this, Joust, Jost, Yjoust Yousaidit, or what? ) for pointing this out. The Hare and consort were encouraged to drink beer for their sins. Roberto needed no prompting and downed down downs before the music had even got to the down down part. I limped into the circle and limply downed a down for attempting to imitate Steve McQueen's motorcycling antics. I limped out again and remained limp all evening.
Hash POTW was announced and god damn it, I had been right all along. The Yeti had existed all the time and now was being nominated for POTW. I could see where this would lead. A few other Stragglers were nominated but none showed the sheer panache of the Yeti. The visiting GM's pale complexion paled even further. Noriega or should I say, the soon to be, man of a million action flicks was nominated for something or other, but yet seemed like Norman Wisdom next to Steven Segal. I don't really know what was going on in the circle, I was paying attention to the Yeti; it seemed restless and was making me nervous. Nominations closed. The Yeti won hands down, it apparently found it more convenient on all fours (and who doesn't!). And yet it began to protest; it should have taken some acting lessons from Frank. To help out, the Hare sprang, with lots of vim, (as 'Dean has hash, sorry, hash hash Weeks' would say) into the circle and immediately dropped his pants and, just by chance, was already wearing an exact replica of the Hash Prick. Convenient. Visiting GM Buckley investigated and found that it was in fact no replica, but the real deal. Anyway, Roberto swallowed like an expert or an expat. The circle ended. Maps were provided to the ON ON. Maps written in Thai script, for all the Thai readers. Fuck all for everyone else; well done Roberto.
Twelve hours later we arrived at the restaurant located just outside Chang Mai and began waiting for the food. We waited, and waited and waited and waited and waited. Then it arrived and it was very nice too. Apparently the delay was caused by the fact that they hadn't realized we were 'white people'. I'm still not sure what this has to do with cooking Thai food. Fortunately the beer was not delayed, apparently they didn't make this. The beer flowed like Marie's wine, which, coincidentally flowed like the on on's beer. Something to do with having relatively the same viscosity I believe. Anyway that all I can recall, but remember this, as AKM's father always says, "It's all for charity."
ON ON.
*****
On Monday we had 30 Harriers, 11 Harriettes, 0 new boots and 10 visitors, total = 51. Largest attendance of any Monday Hash excluding AGMs and Run 1,000. Returners included Graeme "Mini" Bristol, May Wongsa, Tom "Pussy Virus" Ellefsen, Richard "Stumbles" White, Heath "He Man" Norris, Archie "Silver Fox" Loper, Chris "Bushman" Schulz, Richard Ramsden, Wolfgang Dettman, Captain Erik, Faisel " Colonel Khadafi" Mookerdum, Paul "Dr. Death" Dillman, Helene Dillman and Khun Ting.
