Trying to go Hashing (Sunday, 10/5)

OK, so for those of you that don’t know, I recently got into Hashing… no it has nothing to do with drugs. If you don’t know what it is, check it out:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hash_House_Harriers
Anyways, hashers are great people, and there is a vast international network of them all over the globe. I thought I would try to get in a couple runs in India while I am here. I found a hash here in Chennai, the Madras Hash House Harriers, so I asked if I could join them for a run. So I head upstairs for some food at the hotel restaurant before I embark because I am starving. I figure I will leave myself about an hour to get there, which gives me thirty minutes for dinner. Should be fine, right? I order some food and wait… and wait, and wait, and pretty soon 45 minutes has gone by. I am getting ready to say screw it and run downstairs, at which point they finally bring everything out. Great. I cram my face with spicy Indian food as fast as I can (more of a challenge than you might think), and literally run downstairs to grab a rickshaw. Of course it is an unusually long time before I find one, but after a minute or two I finally get one. This would of course be the driver that speaks the least English in all of Chennai. I tell him where I am going, ask him how much, and he says 100 rupees. Fine. I express that I am in a hurry, to which he responds that he understands. Half a block later and he pulls over to ask for directions. Ugh. I give him the piece of paper I wrote the directions on and he shows it to the guy. They talk in Tamil for a minute and then we drive off. The driver then turns to me and tells me 500 rupees. It did look like a significant distance on the map, so fine, it’s worth it. I can always get a ride back with someone so this should be my only expense. We head close to two miles in what seems like the wrong direction, and then suddenly pull off at a gas station. Not only that, but one with a huge line leading to the pump. WTF!!!!
Half an hour later and we are finally on our way. If I had been smart I would have just bailed out and called it a night, but I was really enthusiastic about going to this run, so I tried to stay optimistic; besides, they don’t actually leave until thirty minutes after the start time.
So we start driving, and indeed we had been driving in the wrong direction for the sole purpose of getting gas at the most crowded station in town. Keep in mind that gas stations are not a rare commodity here in Chennai, so I am a little pissed, but my optimism gets the better of me and I say nothing. Naturally traffic is terrible and we spend most of our time either stopped or swerving around some vehicle only to stop again two meters later. I have looked at a map and know that the run is on the edge of town, so I hold out hope that traffic will lighten up. About the time I am starting to convince myself that there is still hope, we stop for directions again. I hand the pice of paper to the driver, he talks to someone in Tamal for a couple minutes, and after resisting the urge to strangle my driver, we are once again off and moving. Fantastic.
At this point we have already passed the meet up time, but I am still clinging to some shred of hope that I can get there before everyone takes off. Hashers leave a trail of flour anyways, so even if they are gone, as long as I can find the place I should be able to follow the trail and catch up. We drive past one landmark, but I am told that the next landmark is very far. Great. I don’t give up hope and we keep going. Maybe I can get there right as they leave and jump right in.
After a while we pass the next landmark. At this point it is well past the start time and all I am clinging to is the hope that I can follow the trail and meet them at the party afterwards, but the prospect of being so close keeps me going. Eventually we pull over again and ask for directions. I tell the driver that I am in a hurry and ask him to keep going, but he ignores me. I resist the urge to kill the driver and sit patiently while he asks ten different people where this place actually is. Fifteen minutes later and one of them feels confident that the place is about twenty kilometers further down the road, so we start driving again. The driver turns to me and tells me that it will be another 500 rupees because it is a very long ways. I try to negotiate less, but he is not having it. I reluctantly agree, with the thought that I would rather pay another 500 rupees to actually get there than to pay 500 rupees for my return trip and never find the place.
About two kilometers later, he pulls off at a little stand on the side of the road, I would assume to ask directions… but no, he is stopping to get snacks. I really hate this guy right now. A few minutes later and we are on our way again. Both my optimism and my enthusiasm are waning, but I press onward with a sense of adventure and the vague notion that something will work out. We continue driving for what seems like forever. Although beautiful, I am not pleased to see the sun setting on the horizon as this means it will be difficult if not impossible to follow the trail. At this point I only cling to the hope that they are already done with the run, and that the party is at the same place as the start. By the time we reach our supposed destination (IE the place the guy on the side of the road was sure of), it is dark, it’s two hours past when the run was supposed to start, this clearly is not the destination, and I am out of enthusiasm. Fuck it. I enlist the help of a bystander, who speaks enough English to communicate effectively, and I negotiate a return rate of less than half what it cost to get down there. An hour and a half later and I am back at the hotel, tired and defeated. For anyone wondering what it is like to spend four and a half hours in a rickshaw and never find your destination: it sucks.