When Hillary and I go to fancy places, we often like to check out their fancy bathrooms. It's something of a ritual. The toilet paper they give us at college is one-ply. Just a single ply! So we know how to really appreciate the finer things, bathroom-wise.
When we got to the Waldorf's bathroom, there was a sitting area with fancy chairs of the finest Oriental silk, and everything was gold-plated (everything). This sitting area exists because there is a very short staircase (maybe four stairs) upwards to where the actual bathrooms are. A fancy, classy lady with a delicate constitution might get tired and need a sit before she can climb them.
Hillary and I are very fancy, classy ladies.
As such, we made full use of the sitting area, and pretended to be fancy British ladies. A transcript, taken by one of our servants:
1. Tell me, what do you think of the Count?
2. Why, of late I've found him quite rude! I say, if he does not learn to keep his manner in check, he shan't be invited to my manor... a-gayn!
Then we heard a flush coming from one of the private bathrooms. We'd thought we were alone, and this was surprising and embarrassing.
When we worked up the courage to return, we were again drawn by the magnetism of the fancy, silky chairs. We knew we couldn't be British again — what if the woman from before was still there? But we soon found a solution.
2. Que pense-tu au sujet du Comte?
1. Oh! Honh honh honh!
We worked up the nerve to make our way toward the private bathrooms. We wanted to continue playing Fancy Ladies, but we had run out of languages we knew. Unless we wanted to be ancient Roman ladies, because Hillary took Latin, but who even wants to be an ancient Roman lady? I have it on good authority that they aren't even that fancy. So instead, we decided to fake it.
2. Der spriechen der Comzenhimzen!!
1. OCH!! Inzer der haufzen!!!
After we had accomplished our bathroomly duties — I will not go into much detail, because I am a lady of modesty in addition to fanciness, but suffice it to say that there were many plies to be had, and it was disappointing to return that evening to our one-ply existence — we emerged from the bathrooms. I thought the game was over, so it was a pleasant surprise to find out that Hillary knew there was one more kind of fancy lady I hadn't even considered!
1. Sing hai Samurai-san?
Then I laughed for about a year, and that is the story of how Hillary and I got kicked out of the Waldorf.*
*A few things in this story are exaggerated. The important things are real.
