Whispering, 1925
My term as Pfister narrator is almost up, so yesterday I finally booked a room. My best friend Jessie drove in from Ann Arbor for the occasion. Jessie promptly plopped on the plush puff bed as soon as we had entered and perused our room, #332.
She then jumped to action and made us a to-do list.
We were already well on our way with task number three.
The view from our window allowed us to spy on two of the kitchen staff taking their break in the sun.
“Jessie, doesn’t the reflection of the hotel in the glass across the street trick you into thinking we are in Paris?”
We watched this man for a while. He looked very disappointed every time other buses passed. He scrutinized a schedule, tracing his anticipated route with a finger.
The windows are an excellent place to hide.
Or to shock.
We walked to Brady Street and saw this basking, busking cowboy.
Concierge Peter offered us a “poisoned apple,” but we did not bite.
With elite guest access to the business center, I did as much business as possible with the opportunity.
We inspected the “Under the Sea” gala for curing diabetes.
Here is Chief Nursing Officer of Children’s Hospital, Nancy Korom (on the left) and friends. 
I found myself asking everyone I met if they had diabetes.
The wife, but not the husband.
Neither of these men are diabetic, but both are on diets. White tie/black shirt Ryan is Paleo. White shirt/black tie Sean is “plant based.”
Matt, server states, “I am a human tray at the moment.” I wonder the maximum amount of drinks this tray can hold for his guests.
I admire, but I do not partake of the shrimp.
We have dinner at the Mason Street Grill. Jessie eats much faster than me, so she must carry the conversation by herself for ten minutes as I chew.
We take turns petting the decorative moss between courses.
As the evening progresses our pictures get blurrier.
I teach Jessie how to play Rummy in Blu. 
We play cards, drink and dance in our seats to the Jazz.
I meet Pam and Bill from Janesville. They are here to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. They remind me:
Jessie is a professional statistician, but she can’t stand all the counting in this rummy game. She asks to change the rules. But I do not like to change the rules when I play cards.
We agree to only play games without rules for the rest of the evening.
This game is called: “Draw your spiritual self.”
While I take a picture of this woman’s shoe, Jessie draws what she sees in front of her.
The most meaningful thing happens to me three minutes to midnight. We are in the lobby listening to Dr. Hollander playing one of his final songs for the evening. The tune is something antique, soursweet and familiar. Like every time I am in the lobby and Dr. Hollander is there, I think I hear him playing it. I know he gives regulars and staff members theme songs, so I go up to him. “Is this my theme song?” He nods. He says he cannot remember the name, only that it was about whispering and it was released in 1925.
I found it, MY THEME SONG! Whispering Jack Smith – Whispering – YouTube.
The magic continues: when we get to our room there is a plate of fruit we never ordered.
In the morning I try out the complementary blowdryer since I’ve never owned one.
Before brunch we stroll over to a bookstore to pet some cats.
We return for brunch. 
Matt! Again! Now he is our server rather than a tray.
