|Himalayan Mixed Hash Run No 1051||Saturday 17 April 1999|
|Location||hills below Changu Narayan||Hares||Slow Drip and the Fox|
Been There, But Didn't See That
The Scribe missed it. It was like having tickets to the Super Bowl but you had an accident on the way there and missed the whole bloody game. Bad karma, as Warren Zevon once sang. The Scribe indeed had an accident but it was a heroic one. Earlier in the day, he was sprinting into the finish on the Phora Durbar 5K 'fun run', legs pumping, snorting polluted air, mouth agape, hair flying back, just like the reverend Scotsman in 'Chariots of Fire', when the hamstring snapped. He managed to stoically limp to the finish but alas the 13-year-old kid he was racing had beaten him to the line and RoadRunner had already been there about 15 minutes. The Scribe has taken pains to describe his glorious moment because he has nothing to write about the Run. He missed the epic finale in the great duel between the preeminent, aging Hares in what was the Himalayan Hash version of the 'Thrilla in Manila' or Fischer versus Spassky. Our match-up pitted Slow Drip against the Fox, and this run was on the Fox's turf. The Scribe watched forlornly as the hares tramped up the hill, embarking on a Fox classic set in the rolling hills below majestic Changu Narayan. The only thing missing in that setting, on a beautifully lit late afternoon, was some buxom sun maidens dancing through the grapevines, singing 'take me down that dirty boulevard'. Lou Reed somehow got into the story but what the hell; the Scribe has nothing to say about the run itself. He limped along with a recovering Desert Fox, who told him stories of his desert expeditions in the Empty Quarter of Arabia with his faithful camel and a beautiful renegade Somali girl. While the hounds
were gleefully shouting 'On On' while charging through the hills, Desert Fox and the Scribe got to witness the Reds do some politicking in the village. It consisted of dousing the villagers with red paint and warm boozea sure-fire way to get votes. They don't have to worry about TV sound bites here. Just get the beer wagon rolling. In that sense, the Hash and the politicians have something in common. Indeed, one of our own, Cable Guy, is on the campaign trail now, running on the cable TV platform in the hills near Pokhara. Cable TV and non-stop blabber from Cable Guy - he's a shoo-in for parliament. Desert Fox and the Scribe straggled in after the pack had already reached the coolers. The key event in the Circle was that the GM was back! The Circle fondly welcomed the GM's infamous mismanagement of the Circle after being subjected to the guest host GM's Stalin-like management techniques in the prior weeks. The Circle unanimously volunteered to amputate the GM's bothersome hand and replace it with Bandit's left-behind prosthetic device. The GM however was not amused by the suggestion even though Bandit's old prosthetic is perfectly shaped to hold a freezing cold Heineken. The Circle welcomed the visiting veteran hashers from the Jakarta Hash; their leader was a haggis hugger Scotsman who subjected the Circle to a series of awful 'Irishman' jokes. An unsympathetic Circle mercilessly awarded the Hashit to the injured Rambo. Pushy Galore, in her accusation of the week, pointed out that RoadRunner's Everest marathon-winning guest helped her out of a rice dike. He was given a down-down for that because gentlemanly behavior is not welcome on the Hash. Kicking dust on the fallen is far more appropriate. ON ON!