The shaman was still sparking and shimmering a little after his ordeal the prior evening. He had gotten up early to find his way to the B'wana Club for his first cup of coffee. He walked to the front desk. The Maître d', who had been brusk with him on his previous visit, was most solicitous.
"May I help you?"
"I'm here to turn in my paperwork," said the shaman, handing the man a rather thick envelope.
"Thank you, sir, and may I say how happy we are to have a new member."
"It's good to be here." said the shaman.
"You may find whatever room suits your needs," said the Maître d'. "You have the run of the place, so to speak."
"Thank you, I will." With this, the shaman began to wander. The lobby went up to a dome several stories high around which were was a massive spiral staircase, representing as stated in the guide, the long winding road each B'wana must travel. There was also a stairway leading down. It was marked "Club Room." The shaman went over to examine it and hear a number of voices emanating from down that way. They all seemed to be saying some manner of "LOL! LOL! LOL!" and it reminded the shaman of the Scheißevogel up the road. He turned away and was met again by the Maître d'.
"May I be of service?"
"No, just browsing."
"The Club Room seems to be preferred by our more frequent posters. They seem to enjoy each other's company. May I make a suggestion?"
"I'm looking to get a cup of coffee in one of the more exotic rooms," said the shaman. "Perhaps read old sporting journals-- something sentimntal."
"Hmmm." said the Maître d'. "Might I suggest the Gurney House Room. It's dedicated to Jim Corbett."
"Yes," replied the shaman. "That would do nicely."
"Third floor," said the Maître d' "You won't be able to miss it.
The shaman thanked the Maître d' and immediately set off for this room. The spiral staircase made it a fairly easy climb, but by the time he had reached the second level, he thought he might get off and tour it before resuming his quest. The second level had multiple doors.
The Jack O'Connor Room
The Ken Howell Memorial Library
The Elmer Keith Room
. . . and so on.
After making a complete circuit, the shaman left the second floor and continued his journey to the third. When he got there, there was Gurney House, next door to the Earnest Hemmingway Bar and Grill, which had a sign on it saying it was closed for renovation. The shaman entered the Gurney House and it was like stepping into another world.
Gurney House was a reconstruction of Jim Corbett's cottage, where he lived the latter part of his stay in India with his sister. It was the quintessential 19th Century Cottage. You could smell the jungle; there was a cacophony of exotic bird calls. Sambhar antlers hung from every available spot in every room. The shaman went to the parlor and sat down in a large, overstuffed chair. Presently, I was attended by my own private khitmagar. He brought me coffee, and I sat about and just soaked it all in.
"I say," said a voice, "You're new here."
"Yes, I am," the shaman replied. "I just made ten thousand posts."
"Ah!" replied the man, dressed in tweeds and sporting a friendly set of mutton chops, "I knew it. Good to have you."
"I am the shaman,"
"And I sir am . . . oh, Drat! Not again."
"That's okay, you can get back to me on it."
"That's going to bother me the rest of the day." said the man. "I'll have to ask my wife tonight."
"Perhaps the servants will know."
"You mean ask the wogs?"
"They probably know."
"Excuse me, sir." replied the man. "He got up and left."
The khitmagar had been most attentive, bringing him coffee and biscuits. The shaman had finished his third cup when he decided it was time to leave. He caught the eye of his servant, who brought him a bill just as he was standing up."
"You may just sign," said the khitmagar. "It goes on your monthly tab."
"Thank you," said the shaman. He examined the bill and found he had been given 3 cups of coffee at $8 apiece and an order of assorted tea cakes for $12. "
"Is everything to your liking?"
"That's rather steep for coffee," said the shaman.
"There is free coffee just behind the Maître d' in the lobby." replied the khitmagar. "You are welcome to bring it with you."
"Thank you," said the shaman. "I will." The shaman gave him a decent tip and then left.
Upon reaching the lobby, he approached the Maître d'. "Where is the men's room."
"Just behind the desk, here," pointed the Maître d'. "I hope you found things to your satisfaction."
"Oh," said the shaman, "Quite nice." The shaman noticed that there was a rather large coffee bar just behind the desk and there were complimentary pastries and newspapers there as well.
It was a nicely appointed restroom. There was a wonderful full-length window at the far end, and the shaman was just remarking to himself that he had never seen such a window in a men's room, when the clouds parted outside and revealed a distant volcanic peak. The shaman caught a glimpse of the high temple of the Kahuna, its golden walls shimmering in a shaft of sunlight and a golden path leading down from the summit. The vision grew and the shaman saw the path wind down from the mountains and it was then he realized the golden bricks continued into the men's room and ended at his feet. A man came over with a towel. The shaman used it to dry his hands and then gave the attendant a tip.
Last edited by shaman; 02/08/21.
