BMH3 Run report

Run 1570
Date: 22 April 2013
Location: Cowboy Restaurant, Nakon In Road
Hare: The Tickler
Scribe: Spinning Dwarf

After a longish taxi ride, we knew we were in the right place since there was pile of camouflage duffel bags as well as the hare wearing similar attire. Nobody panicked despite ominous suggestions of the Boston Bombers.

To be forewarned is to be forearmed. And if the warning comes from THE TICKLER (the ominous nature of the name is no accident even if he does dress like a one-man Village People), believe it!!!

In his inimitably irascible manner and gravelly-gruff voice, he was overhead to say, “Hey, if you think you can start a run at 5:30 and not need a flashlight (sic, torch) you are some kind of stupid!”

Well, call me stupid. A frantic search of my own backpack found only a pressure cooker, a handful of nails and ballbearing but NOTHING that could light the way. Given THE TICKLER’s reputation, that is as near to certainty as a boy from West Virginia marrying his 1st cousin.

(True story: West Virginia lad makes a mistake and marries outside of his family. Upon appearing for breakfast the morning after the nuptial blessing were administered, his father asked before his assembled clan: “How was she, boy?” He replies, “Well, she wuz a virgin, that’s fer danged sure!”

Stammering from his disgust and dismay the old man roared: “What!!!?!!! Send her a’packin’!!! If she ain’t good enuf fer her own kin, we don’t want nuthin’ to do with her!!!”)

Anyway, back to the trail. As promised it was a B-to-A run with a fleet of pickups waiting to transport an anxious pack of Harriers to be starting point. Bushman was particularly antsy and bolted out of the back of the truck before it came to a stop.

It all went well until the 1st check. As all others, save one, it was a back-check that confounded much of the pack for about 10 minutes. As it is, the various checks seemed to stretch out the pack rather than bunch it up. In turn, there were numerous short-cutters or taxi hailers so that quite a few did not enjoy the best part of the shaggy at the end.

In sum, it was an excellent trail that could have only been improved upon by having an extra hour of daylight. All hail the fine efforts of THE TICKLER!!!

As the circle began to form and get well under way, there were faint cries of “R U?” heard in the distance. Inasmuch as Barbie was the only one not back, there seemed to be no good reason to reply, leaving him to thrash around in the entangled scrub and thorny underbrush. Anyway, with one less Hasher, there would be more beer to go around.

Eventually, a solitary half-naked figure limped back, nearly 2 hours after the start and in complete darkness only to be greeted by a collective yawn of indifference.

Assuming RA duties, Vagina Slime dragged “Iron Legs” dragged in for failing to uphold the oath of all good soldiers, “NEVER leave a man behind!” Various charges were filed, but none were momentous enough or clever enough to recall.

For his part, Barbie continues to boost the vocabulary of Bangkok Hashers. Having complained about “parsimonious” use of paper on a rival run, it was reported that he said the last kilometer relied more upon “tactile” senses than sight. Unable and unwilling to assume “the position” used to cover the trail in the proximity of Vagina Slime, the matter was ended by a sweet rendition of the Barbie Song by none other than the Welsh Warbler, No-Good Boyo.

Much to the surprise of the assembled throng (no, not thong!), Prick-of-the-Week was bestowed upon a visiting beardless youth, James, hailing from Portsmouth, UK.

Meanwhile, there was a bit of muttering from the other visitors that thought we would convene to Soi Cowboy, not Cowboy Restaurant. Those that remained behind were served up a fine feast accompanied by icy beers and all the Maker’s Mark that most wanted. Despite the large number seated before the tables fairly groaning with food and bottles, the good-and-generous Hare, THE TICKLER, covered the entire tab.

On on,
Todd

Bangkok Monday Hash House Harriers