Dear Diary:
Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, I swim at a pool on the glass-domed top floor of Le Parker Meridien Hotel, on 57th Street near Seventh Avenue. The hotel caters mostly to businessmen.
The elevators house small rectangular TV screens above the inner doors that show old silent movies of either Tom and Jerry cartoons or Charlie Chaplin.
One morning while I was waiting for the elevator to go up to the pool, the elevator door opened to reveal a businessman, attaché case in hand, looking up at the television screen.
Before I entered, I reminded him that he had reached the lobby level.
He pointed to the television screen and replied, “I have to find out what happens at the end of the cartoon.â€
We rode up together.
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