Capacitynine persons
or one grand pianoInsp. No. 0331 · H. Abernathy, Attendant
LThe Lobby
Mind the revolving door; it has been turning since the opening gala and nobody has had the heart to stop it. The night porter’s bell is for emergencies, and for Mrs. Voss in 904. Going up.
7The Cartographers’ Club
Members only, though membership consists chiefly of knowing where the door is. They have mapped every floor of this hotel save one, and they are gentlemen enough not to say which.
12The Ballroom
It has been 1934 in here since 1934. The orchestra has never asked to be paid, and the management has never thought it wise to offer. I would not accept a second waltz.
—No Such Floor
There is no thirteenth floor, sir. The car merely pauses here to collect itself.
19The Aviary Suite
Let to a contralto in 1932 and never properly vacated. The parrots know four arias and the combination to the hotel safe; we tip them accordingly.
27Housekeeping
Where lost umbrellas go. Each is tagged with the date and the weather, and kept until called for. Nine thousand and eleven at last count; the empty hook, I am told, is yours.
33The Night Kitchen
Chef Marguerite ices a cake at three every morning, for a birthday no guest has yet admitted to. The copper is polished hourly. Steam, in this hotel, is a form of punctuality.
41The Swimming Pool in the Sky
Forty-one storeys of plumbing for one length of moonlight. There is a single swimmer most nights. We have stopped counting her laps, as she has.
52The Observatory Bar
The telescope is trained on the tram depot, not the stars; the barman is sentimental. Ask for The Last Tram: rye, burgundy, a twist of lemon, served at the exact minute you have missed it.
60The Roof
Top of the house. From behind, our sign spells nothing at all, which I have always found restful. The searchlights are looking for the dawn; there, they have found it.