Herpetology

Rikki Tikki Tavi

At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
'Nag, come up and dance with death!'

Eye to eye and head to head,
(Keep the measure, Nag.)
This shall end when one is dead:
(At thy pleasure, Nag.)

Turn for turn and twist for twist
(Run and hide thee, Nag.)
Hah ! The hooded Deah has missed !
(Woe betide thee, Nag.) 

~ Rudyard Kipling

Gentle Readers and Loved Ones All,

Palau Penang is one of our nicest layovers.  It’s an island in Malaysia and the hotel sits directly on beach on the island’s northern shore.  It’s a lovely hotel with all the palm trees, swimming pools and other distractions one expects at a high end flesh pot establishment. Alerted to leave to fly back to Tokyo, I left the room in uniform, leather jacket draped over the handle of my PurdyNeat Roller Bag because it was much too warm to wear.  Down the lift, I turned the corner to enter the wonderful breezeway lobby that opens onto the pool and the beach.  I was mentally reviewing my ‘incidental expenses’ as I turned towards the checkout desk and…..

HOLY COW IT’S A HUGE GOL' DARNED SNAKE!!!!!!!  *

In the tiled and beautifully decorated lobby there was large crowd of hotel guests clearing an open ring in the middle of the tiled floor.  On the floor, crawling towards a particularly cute, blued eyed, blond haired eight year old Australian lass was a large cobra, hood expanded.  We are not talking about your ho-hum run of the mill lobby cobra here.  This was a Harry Potterian nightmare Nagini of a Basilisk of a cobra complete with flicking tongue.   It filled the room and commanded the totality of my attention.

Nature has fitted us with an involuntary ‘fight or flight’ response to the perception of danger.  In much less time that it will take my meager skills to relate, my reptilian hind-brain ran through the menu of possible responses.  Since I was not in possession of a large bore shotgun; nor even a large bladed weapon, preferable a long handled, sharpened, garden hoe; nor even a mere bludgeon; the check-mark went next to the ‘flight’ option.  As various sphincter muscles began to loosen in my nether regions, I turned to effect my escape. 

Gentle Reader, I am trained in how to respond to airborne emergencies.  Worse, once upon a time, I was responsible for training young budding airmen in those same skills.  It causes me great embarrassment to tell you that those skills totally abandoned me in my initial response to this situation.  I gave no thought to rescuing the young lady.

In any case, as I turned to run like a screaming moron, my upper level brain functions began to return.  I reflected that no one in the crowd of people looking at the snake bearing down on the young lady seemed to be displaying concern.  Further, there was a fellow reaching out with studied and casual abandon to grab the snake by the tail. 

I halted my flight and turned back to look.  Yup.  A Malaysian fellow had the now somewhat diminished appearing cobra by the tail and was pulling it back.  My heart still pounding, I watched as the fellow established the total attention of the snake. As I stood dumbfounded the fellow slowly reached out and smooched the serpent on the lips.  The crowd applauded.

As I regained control of the involuntary functions of my body, it struck me that I was watching a hotel sponsored snake show.  Looking around, there was another fellow behind the snake charmer charged with guarding the basket that contained the Boa Constrictor.  As the show proceeded, the young blonde previously mentioned was recruited to come up to stage center.  The snake charmer draped the ‘Bone Constrictor’ - as my daughter used to call them in her youth – around her slender shoulders to the delight of the crowd. 

This was the climax of the show, the tip jar was circulated and the crowd broke up. I paid my bill and checked out.

Since then I have found this video.  It appears to be same fellow.  Those of you bothered by snakes may wish to avoid viewing this video.

I also discovered that I took these photos.

The quality of the photography reflects my mental state.

On that note, I remain,

Dad / Geoff

* Gentle readers who know me well - such as my beloved wife - will know that my exclamation was much more scatological and deifically anathematic.  Please allow me my fiction.