Venue: Pattaya, Horseshoe PointHares: Wolfgang, Gilles and The PopeDate: 26/27 March 2011.Scribe: Laura 'Loose Zipper' E.We So Fly in PattayaSaturday March 26, 12:45 PM, hashers saddled up at Horseshoe Point and looked up to the cloudy grey skies above. No rain yet. Those who had somehow survived last year’s great deluge and were forgetful (or just plain foolish) enough to come again whispered a silent prayer. 5 minutes to 1 and still no rain. Was the Pope back in favor with the big guy upstairs? Was Captain Condom protecting us in Pattaya? As the clock ticked down to 1, we stood in silence searching the heavens for an answer.DEE-DEE-DEE-DEE-DI-DI-DUM!!!! “CIRCLE UP HIER!!!!” Vas is das? Was a new guy in charge upstairs or was that Shitty Shitty Bang Bang with a bullhorn? Too late to bother listening further. We kicked up our heels and galloped out the gates for the open fields beyond.Tapioca and pineapples, two hash favorite foods, kept us satisfied for the first clicks of the ride while cool breezes blew the FRBs away to take care of the checks ahead.The peloton eased back to check out the golden Pattaya sands. I’ve heard that if you don’t stop you keep going, but despite our good intentions, we couldn’t help but all slow down for some fun in the sand. On the menu for gawkers were perky little one-foot tail spins and the classic crowd pleasing S-O-B (Slide-Over-Baby) side dismount into the sand. Some virgin hashers executed a perfect Pattaya Zorro: three quick zigzags in the sand followed by a hasty dismount ending in a look of guilty surprise.We forgot ourselves, threw back our heads and laughed heartily. Too late, we realized what we had done. We had opened our mouths. Some had even swallowed. In Pattaya! Yes, with the Captain nowhere in site, we had let down our guard and the flies took advantage of us.Encouraged by their success, the flies now swarmed upon us en masse. We mounted up, dug in our spurs and hauled out of there in granny gear snail speed. Little did we know, each of us was now accompanied by our own personal floatillion of flies.The track narrowed, the grass thickened and the hills rose up ahead. We clipped into the stirrups and took deep breaths. Too late! The flies took advantage of us again. We felt like flypaper back at the barn. Them flies stuck with us as we bounced our way over the trenches, screeched down the rocky slopes (there was no stopping us now) and pumped up to the highest point we could find (hoping for escape but only to see we really were marooned in the land of swarming flies). They even went with us across the bamboo pile (doesn’t anyone know that means don’t go in there?), down into the ominous grass (is that big hole the way out of here?) and right into the pineapples (remind ouch me ouch why we ouch do this ouch again).At the drink stops (there were two of them so we could try different remedies), we swapped flies and gulped down bottles of acidic coke & sticky sports drinks. You do know why. Oh come on now, sing it with me: We swallowed the coke to catch the fly, but I don’t know whhhaaayyyy, we swallowed the fly, perhaps we’ll…. DEE-DEE-DEE-DEE-DI-DI-DUM!!!! “GOENZY ZISS VAY NOT DAT VAY!!!!”No time to swallow a spider or a bird to catch those flies. But there were plenty more wiggles and jiggles ahead to help with the digestion and lots of beautiful winding trails through fields of palms, rubber, tapioca, eucalyptus and of course pineapples.48 clicks later, gears grinding and legs burning from a day of fun in the sand, we pulled up back at the stable where our flies feasted on the Pope’s delicious chili dogs. (One hasher was spotted under the tent squeezing two wieners into his bun, but then again this was Pattaya.) Although we were now resigned to sharing the rest of our lives with our fly partners, we washed down extra antiseptic Chang & Leo just to be safe.With no Sack of Shit to guide us, we circled up with Cowboy Carl leading the way and were quickly lost. To be fair, there was some fascinating athleticism and athletic support on the football field behind us. But we do vaguely remember some fly new bikes, super fly new hash hare bike shirts (apparently as much fun to squeeze into as they are to wear), fly newbies (2 were European filmmakers who got to add a cameo down-down clip to their movie project), fly-eyed old hashers and one fly new hash name that will forever remind us of the Point: Khao Phat Fly!Sunday Ride: Lord of the Flies in PattayaSunday morning, cool grey skies greeted us sleepy parishioners. Miraculously, instead of flies, a record number of kids showed up for Sunday School Hash style. (One especially innocent one had nothing to do with that statue losing its head.) Under the Pope’s stern scrutiny, we bowed our heads and vowed to clean up our act. Chastened, we listened to the Bullhorn sermon, which began shortly after sunrise. I guess there were a lot of transgressions to cover. The children eyed us warily. We just nodded sheepishly and pawed the ground. When at last the bell tolled 10, the flock reverently filed out through the ancient temples, down the lanes and along the straight and narrow single track. Though the pineapples beckoned us, we kept our eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead and carefully wound our way through field and vale, along village lanes and highway overpasses and through the woodlands of Maprachan.And yea though we rode through the valleys of Pattaya, we were never abandoned. When upon the first check, we wondered astray in the wilderness, the Bullhorn herded us into the thick grass where the invisible paper lay. And when we came upon the cross roads, we did not fall into temptation to hurdle across without looking as we had done before. The Bullhorn was there to halt and summonenzi hither. The flock took comfort in the sweet sound of spritzensprachenmitdaschreechenhornen and made the crossings with ease, never looking back, lest we catch the eye of any too feeble to continue. And behold in the valley of the trees, we came upon a miraculous grassy lane upon which to rest our weary tires. Even when we did reach the darkest depths of the sleazy culvert and were tempted to turn back again to our carnal ways like stampeding wildebeests in the Mara River, the Bullhorn guided us back to the right way along the cliff edge. Even the two hashers who backslid in the slime, were safely returned to the flock.At last when we had completed two and seven clicks out on the highways and byways, we were welcome at the gates and into the fold for our just reward. We broke bread and plenty of wind until Uncle Carl gathered the surviving children for a fizzy drink and a cheery hymn in which we reminded them of their incredible value. Wolfgang was first and second to partake from the chalice. Though the bullhorn was no longer with us, he was honored for his other equipment and some mysterious markings by a beloved master. Seven skillful ones were then called upon to partake followed by seven valiant souls for their partaking of apparently all the flies the day before. With a final papal blessing we were dismissed. We thanked the cloudy heavens and filed out with hearts humming that glorious refrain, Dee dee dee dee dee di di dum, dah dah dum dah dah dumssssschreeeeeiitchhtzz!Loose Zipper