Kurt and Mary stood in a luxurious hotel lobby with two friends and four overnight bags. The building had large letters emblazoned on the side about half way up its 98 floors. It was 2014 and the name had not yet taken on new significance.
“Welcome to Trump Tower Mr. Lindwahl,” said the bellman. Should you require ANYTHING during your stay, please don’t hesitate to ask.” His emphasis on “anything” hinted at an endless list of possibilities. Tantalizing, or…
Well that’s creepy, Kurt thought, but said only,
“Anything?”
The bellman appeared utterly indifferent to Kurt’s question as he handed Kurt a wood-grained plastic card.
“Your key, sir,”
Kurt turned to Mary with a devilish smile as he noticed the clerk’s nametag. “Jethro.”
“Kurt, don’t,” said Mary. She knew the smile all too well.
“We’ve got the bags,” said Kurt as he quickly walked toward the elevators.
As the doors slid closed, Kurt faced the usual panel of round buttons along with some oblong ovals that represented special destinations. Kurt pushed the button for fourteen, but the light immediately went off. He pushed again. Someone at the back of the car said,
“You have to swipe your room card, then push the button.” And after a brief pause, “I’m not sure why, but it’s pretty cool.”
“That’s it, I feel like Jed Clampett, Kurt chuckled, “Hold tight Ellie Mae!”
The elevator ride was swift and amazingly smooth. Popping in their ears was the only indication they had actually moved, unlike the coalmine ride at the museum that deliberately shakes and sways as it slowly descends 12 feet into a nearly “bottomless” shaft.
The Lindwahl’s room was beyond ostentatious. Slippers and robes, a yoga DVD and mat, Sharper Image dumbbells and heated aromatic eye pillows. Kurt stood in the bathroom puzzling over the presence of an unexplained remote control. He pointed it first at the shower, then at the toilet. No response. A darkened area in the mirror caught his eye. A TV came to life in the mirror’s glass.
“Well, doggies,” Kurt laughed. “Who in the world feels they deserve this?”
He picked up the room phone and called the front desk. Anything.
“Yes, can you tell me how to get to the Cement Pond?”
“Beg pardon sir?” It was Jethro.
“Swimmin’ pools, movie stars…” Mary rolled her eyes.
“The SPA is on the fifteenth floor sir.” That’s one floor up from fourteen.” He said with a slightly sarcastic edge. He had Kurt’s number.
“Thanks, buddy!” Kurt said and turned to Mary. “Let’s go work out.”
They arranged to meet their friends at the fifteenth floor spa in five minutes. Mary suggested they walk up.
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