I wasn't sure what we were getting into when we signed up for sleeping in a Romanian Hotel
in order to attend a recent marriage conference.
The lobby was a good sign.
The pillows were a clue that we weren't in America, but we already knew that.
Our view was great. From our room you could pretend that communist block buildings don't exist.
The bathroom even had one of those showers with fifty buttons which direct where you want the water to squirt. I still can't figure out why I would need, or even want, my ankles jet streamed.
Of course, whether you are in America or Romania that magic remote still found it's way into a male's hand.
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