BMH3 Run report

Run 1567
Date: 1 April 2013
Location: Petchaburi Soi 32, Near Chidlom
Hares: Pussy Virus and Man Boobs
Scribe: Mini

Deep in Pratunam –

In a vacant lot surrounded by the current excesses of modern architecture, the pack gathered to consider the next adventure.

Heading back to the bridge over the Saen Saeb we found it was to be a live hare run. Ah, the young and foolish hares. Mind you, perhaps not so foolish. With this crowd, there were few, if any, who would catch up to the hares. In fact, I doubt that crossed anyone’s mind. Rather, as we stood there waiting the required 10 minute start – carefully counted down by the GM, I might add – we considered what a live hare run might be like if the hares took off and the runners just waited for them to return. We could do that.

Alas there were those keeners in amongst us who were champing at the bit – I’m not just looking at Bushman here, no. He was already nosing around the corner running on the spot. There were others, young novices and the like, who were growing anxious. Is the 10 minutes up? Can we go now?

Who are these people?

The GM called on and off we went. To the west. We could have gone east just as easily. There are lots of boat stops in that direction as well. However, the hares, in their wisdom, knew that the added discomfort of running INTO the setting sun would slow the pack down SINCE WE COULDN’T SEE!

Now the added feature of a city run like this is the crossing of major streets during rush hour. Not only could this slow the pack down, it could even kill one or two. An added sense of excitement there. Then it was off to our first slum – the one wedged in between the klong and Central World. I had brought my students there back in 1998 to work with this community. It looked like things had gone downhill since then. Not a good sign. We need Saul Alinsky back!

After the slum we made our way past the other end of the scale past Paragon and through the Siam Kempinski Hotel and then over to the north side of the klong and into the setting sun. Through the Ban Krua chumchon on the other side of Jim Thompson’s house. Another community where Noriega had to stop and shake a few hands with some of the older residents of the community (yes, yet another of Frank’s old stomping grounds).

Under the expressway and then another major thoroughfare before we got to the train tracks. Yet another opportunity for a violent end! There was a train stopped on the tracks – waiting, waiting perhaps for some hapless farang to walk in front of the train. The trail indicated that it went straight across – an in ‘under the train’. Nobody was doing that route to oblivion. The more prudent of the pack went behind the train. The rest of us defied the train engineer and walked in front of the train. The drama was somewhat eclipsed by the fact that the engineer appeared to be sleeping. We didn’t want to startle him awake with hash horns at that point.

From there, through the Bobae market. Dodging the brooms as shopkeepers cleaned up from their day’s entrepreneurial efforts, I then lost the trail as we crossed the klong at Krung Kasem. Well our destination, at this point, had to be the Bobae pier. We weren’t going to retrace our steps back to the Charoenpol Pier, were we? We were now only steps away from that lovely example of crappy architecture the Prince Palace hotel – notably for its livid pink exterior.

Sure enough, there they were. Twenty or more of us – a little sweaty and the worse for wear – got on the boat with all the commuters. The commuters, for their part, seemed nonplussed about this invasion of sweat. After all, it was better than the spray of the klong water as we returned to Pratunam.

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