I’m not sure if yesterday’s Hash is best characterized as either a fiasco, a boondoggle, or a clusterfuck. I report, you decide.

Now, for the record, I was really looking forward to this outstation trip to San Narcisco. I imagined hiking through new terrain, ocean views, and sunset on the beach from our on-home at Mopes Resort.

Needless to say, things didn’t go as planned. Let’s get started on the story through pictures:

Hmm. That sign was the first indication of the trouble to come. Up ahead in the distance I could see a group of Hashers congregated around a vehicle. Then I looked behind me and saw several motorbikes approaching. As they got nearer I noticed the men were wearing uniforms and heavily armed. About this time, the group from up ahead had turned around and were walking back towards us, followed closely by a military vehicle. This can’t be good.

And it wasn’t. It seems we had ventured onto land that belonged to the Philippine Navy and we weren’t welcome to be there. We all assumed we were being escorted off the base. It wasn’t exactly the Bataan Death March or anything, but we did go a couple of kilometers before reaching a paved road. Again, we all thought we’d just walk on to the highway and catch transportation back to the on-home resort. Nope.

But the bus stopped short of the gate, although we could see it from where we were. Which was the base security headquarters building. Now we were told they just needed to get us to all write down our names before we were released. Okay, sure no problem.

After we had filled out our names we were told to wait until the officer on duty came to formally release us. In due course, a couple of officers came by and asked some questions. They had no clue what a Hash is or what we were all about. More importantly, the officer in charge appeared totally indecisive as to what to do with us. We did note that our trespassing had been inadvertent and unintentional. Our mistake was facilitated by a lack of any fences or warning signs that we were in a restricted area. That didn’t seem to make a bit of difference to the officer. Apparently “we should have known better”. Our assurances that it would never happen again didn’t sway him either. So we all stood around while he dithered and dathered and consulted with his staff. The sun went down and there we were standing in the gloom. We could see our bus in the distance, so near and yet so far.

Some of the guys were getting pissed. I was hungry and aggravated, but I also knew that being rude towards our captors was not going to improve our situation at all. Finally, the officer made some kind of decision, then got in a car and left. One of his underlings advised us that we would have to be photographed before we could leave. So, we all stood and posed individually for said photo, and wrote our name once again on a sheet of paper. Now can we go?

Um, no. Not yet. It seems they wanted us to be checked medically so as to preclude any future claims that we had been abused or mistreated. Okay, now I knew this was all bullshit. They were intentionally holding us without recourse for as long as possible. To what end I do not know.

Finally, after we had been held up for nearly two hours they advised we could sign a waiver in lieu of the medical exam. The thought crossed my mind that once we signed they could beat us with impunity. Oh well, I signed anyway. And for some reason, I remembered a Cheech and Chong skit from way back in my stoner days called “sign ze papers”. I hadn’t thought of that in 40 years! Good stuff though. I’m going to embed it at the end of this post. Although it was probably funnier when you’re high.

Anyway, after we had all signed we asked if we could leave. Not yet, someone needed to make an announcement before we left. They did let us call the bus to come to where we were and pick us up, so that was a good sign. Finally, an obese woman in a Navy uniform came out and formally released us, but first, we would all have to be individually called by name and have our nationality added to the previous papers we had signed. And so it was done and we finally departed the custody of the Philippine Navy.

The bus ride home was fueled with more beer drinking and the singing of Hash songs. One of the more popular songs is “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing”. Here’s a sample:

Melody: 
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
Lyrics: 
Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together
Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together
Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves
Chorus:
More beer for all the Hashers
More beer for all the Hashers
More beer for all the Hashers
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves

Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails
Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails
Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves
(chorus)
Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine
Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine
Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves
(chorus)

Anyway, you get the idea. What we do is make up new verses as we go along. And last night this was my contribution:

Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody

Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody

Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody

Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves

And so ended a cluster fuck of fiascos leading to a day of boondoggles. But I survived.