Run:- 2104, 22 April 2024
Location:- Klang Na (Homestay), Kanchanapisek East
Hares:- Checkless and Gringo
Weather: Frikkin’ HOT

First Hasher Off: 17:15 Last Hasher In: 19:07

Prologue: Alas, times are a-changing. The Homestay is no longer in the middle of fields of idyllic greenery. The bridge to nowhere now goes somewhere, paddies are going to weeds, and landowners have discovered the traditional use of barbed wire.

Moobans are raising their not-Hash-friendly walls. (Bamboo scaling ladders are available free at the ladder shop at the mouth of the Homestay’s soi.) On the bright side, the Homestead’s soi is still impassible except for tracked military vehicles, the klongs are still there, Joylide would find plenty of trash to feed her bonfires, and hares can still lay trails across rural properties without asking permission (though this run seems to have tested that traditional Hash privilege).

For example, running through someone’s basil plants becoz paper led us there, (even tho the klong path was parallel) and then paper disappeared: Landowner: "Get off my basil plants!" Me: "Oh, sorry, please excuse me." Her: "I don’t want your frikkin’ apology, just stay off my property!" Then YT realized why the paper had disappeared – she had confiscated it. A poor sport.

The Log: Back on the long, long klong walkway we ran and walked, ran and ran and ran and walked – and bloody ran. No frikkin’ checks. Light bulb goes off – Checkless is the hare. That’s his Hash name – "Checkless"!!!

Back across the klong, sharp right, right again, and off the frikkin’ klong paths into paddy stubble. And cracks, nay, crevasses, big enuf to swallow a horse. (She died, of course.) At the far, far corner for the field, a front runner (FRB) is stymied. Running around aimlessly – "ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny" or something like that.

It’s Haz - let’s call the FRB back, and so we did, and it was good. Make him into an SCB, a real Hasher. Called him back to the klong, where we hailed a passing boat man: "Oh, dear boatman, have you seen a lot of sweaty Farangs running?" "Yes, now that you mention it, you very handsome and distinguished, mature stranger, they disappeared into that tree line yonder." (I’ve paraphrased what he said as he pointed to yonder tree line.) Short-Shorts had joined us by this time. Haz took off like a shot, reaching the tree line in seconds. Being vertically-challenged, we floundered through cushiony mounds of dead grass, then prudently called it off, recalling the many banded kraits that infest this kind of country. We returned to the stubble, picked up paper, made a huge loop through a familiar looking mooban, under a road, and back for another "Checkless" trudge along another klong, the kind that that make short-cutting so difficult. Caught up with Senator. Then, lo and behold, here come the Norwegian and Haz back toward us! WTF???

"Bad farmer picked up the paper with same pitchfork he threatened to use on us if we crossed into his property and ravished another of his daughters." (Could explain why Gringo was looking so pleased with himself at the off.) N &H proceeded to lay the alternative On-In with the paper no longer needed on the trail thru Old MacDonald’s farm. A five-kilometer On-In on superhighways. Not being as dedicated (crazy nuts?) as they, SS, Senator and YT hailed a taxi and made the On-In in record time. (One of the many benefits of auto-hashing.) Reaching the On-In just as Boob and CIS appeared, Senator hid under the dashboard and ordered the taxi to stop just behind them. Quick-thinker he is. On-In was a stroll in the pleasant evening breezes, alongside the pond, the western sky ablaze as the sun slowly settled into the murk.

And there’s Tuk and Bog, just leaving after the visit they’d promised. As they drove past us, Bog bravely promised he’d return in two weeks. Need to spend a bit more time with them.

Reached the run site, and there were the Harriette's looking lovely (as usual!!!!), apparently they hardly broke into a glow on the trail. (In case you wondered, Harriette's don’t sweat, they glow - same color as the red wine they drink) The distant trees were silhouetted against the sunset sky, mosquitoes were rampant, and beer (Thank you Khun Aae) and conversation flowed. The JM took control after a precise 15 minutes after N&H appeared out of the darkness. The verdict of the run was the usual stuff, the pack arbitrarily dispensed kudos and punishment, regardless of whether either was deserved.

The Tickler was AWOL, so the knackered Tinker was called in as RA, and a feeble performance it was. Couldn’t even get anyone to call Late-coming Ball-slapper "Late-balling Cum-slapper". Handed over the Tickler for the POTW, which promptly went to Nick the Dick(head) for disrespecting the Stand-in GM. (Well- deserved, but you gotta respect the office.) The prick itself is still with him; wants to wear it on dark street corners late at night. On-off with your shoes and on-in to the feast. The staff of Glang Na was the epitome of "service with a smile". The entrée was the heavenly, and it got better from there.

Then it all went downhill, or rather Checkless did. Without even an "Ooohhhh" or an "Aaagghhh", he slid, unconscious, from his chair onto the floor. KC, always alert, snuggled down beside him to keep Checkless from being embarrassed – once in a while, many people like to take a break from the meal by lying on the floor.

Haz agreed, as he asked for another beer. He iced it down as Eat Me iced Checkless down. It could have been a ploy to keep Checkless from shouting the OnOn, but Checkless carried it a bit too far by being hospitalized, on the drip, etc. The Nigerian and Gringo went with him to be certain that nurses tended to his every need, etc. Thus ended another shitty day in paradise.