Hash House Harriers

I have many ways of embarrassing myself. But I discovered last night that fainting and then puking in front of 50 strangers is the most assured way of reaching total embarrassment. Let's see, where do I begin this story.....
The Hash House Harriers call themselves a drinking club with a running problem and there are groups of them all over the world. They meet to do two things 1. run 2. drink beer. We'd heard about the Harriers before, but I always assumed it was just a running club, which of course, made me stay away. When I saw an ad in the ever-so-informative Chennai expat magazine that promoted "an hour of running/walking followed by infinite fun and beer" I decided it'd be worth a try.
Now, I've never been a runner. I'm actually really not good at it at all. But I did a lot of treadmill running to get in shape for the wedding and I've been beating the middle school girls in their soccer practice warmups, so I was feeling up to an hour run.
Brad didn't begin this new adventure enthusiastically, but as soon as we got going he was having the time of his life. Not so much because he's a naturally talented runner (and he is) but because there was a group of college girls who took a strong liking to him.
The idea of the Hash House Harriers is that two to four people, the hares, set a trail and the rest of us follow them. Last night the trail was supposed to be marked by chalk, but most of that was washed away by the monsoon, so I always just followed the biggest pack of people, which often took me off course. All in all we did about 8 kilometers through neighborhoods, fishing villages and along the beach. Along the way I encountered naked kids, who ran with us for a ways, drunk men who tried to fondle me and got shoved and kicked, a big-ass rat and lots of bewildered, but smiling faces of people who came out of their houses to smile and wave at us, bare-legged, naked-shouldered, pale people, running for no apparent reason.
After the run I felt great, and felt even better when someone handed me a bottle of beer. There was a little ceremony for "the virgins" where Brad and I sat on a big block of ice while people sang a song and we chugged yet another beer. Then dinner was served, and that's when I started to feel a little fuzzy. I turned to Brad and told him I thought we should go, but it was too late. The next thing I knew I was waking up from a nice long sleep with Brad's face just inches from mine shouting, "Sarah, look at me!"
Apparently, I'd fainted dead away, legs crumpled under me, eyes staring. Brad was terrified and did what the movies had taught him to do: grab my upper body up off the ground and shout, "Sarah, NOOOOOO!" I shouldn't tease, he really was scared, and told me that there is nothing funny about this what-so-ever, but it's the day after now, so I think we can all have a good chuckle.
Anway, it gets worse. Brad took me to a chair and everyone was trying not to stare, but couldn't help it, and that's when I started throwing up. And it was really, just mortifying.
Eventually, we made our way out to the car, but not before everyone stopped me with a piece of advice, drink water, carry candy with you, go see the doctor... but I'm pretty sure it was just a small case of dehydration. What I'm not sure about it whether or not I'll be able to go back and show my face again. Once you become a real Hasher they give you a name, White Wolf, Lord Krishna, something like that. And I just can't stop thinking about what they'll try to name me.