Recently my spouse and I attended an out-of-state family occasion and spent two days at a lovely hotel built in the “roaring 20s.” The package deal with cousins, all my siblings, etc. made this quite a value.
I was born about twenty years after the opening of the hotel in all its grandeur. It was exquisitely designed. Our room was on the 11th floor with a beautiful, panoramic view. It wreaked of good taste. We couldn’t have been more pleased.
Night fell on this fine-looking hamlet. We went to sleep for the night just after eating squares of milk chocolate care of the hotel. That evening I awoke for one of my nightly trips to the bathroom.
It was a large room that was in essence pitch black. I walked about fifteen feet on a thick, comfy carpet. I realized, unexpectedly, I had to take a step up. Trembling slightly on that step I gathered, just quickly enough, there was one more step to climb. I actually stayed up all the way to the bathroom and never had to prove that Medicare was available in any state or possession of the U.S.
Perhaps the senior population was much smaller in the 1920s and perhaps it had a youthful architect with a lower urinary tract that functioned like it should.
H. Robert Rubin, a best-selling, Amazon memoirist, a novelist with a draft novelette in progress, and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me, all available on Amazon