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I'll meet you out back in a minute. I'm just gonna take a quick shower."
Amelia piped in immediately, "The showers are shut off for the night."
"Shut off?"
It was impossible to know what she was thinking as she stared at me challengingly, but I doubt it was flattering.

Like an ass, I persevered, "Why do you shut your showers off?"
A pause and a sigh, "Well, I could let you into the downstairs apartment"

"Okay, if you're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Come along, then."
Although it was already dark, my eyes had to adjust to a new level of gloom once inside The Mayflower. I followed Amelia down a narrow hallway which led to a very small door. Honestly, this door was high enough for maybe a midget. Amelia was tiny and she had to stoop to enter, so at 5'9" I was practically doing a Quasimodo, knuckles dragging.
Once inside, she clicked on an antique lamp which barely lit a diminutive sitting room. Drunk or not, I really could not believe this set-up.
"Where am I?" I quipped, "The land of Oz?"
My wit did not endear me to Amelia who, ignoring me, pointed to another little door.
"The shower's in there. There are towels. Bring them out with you after you use them. I'll be waiting out here for you."
I humbly thanked her and entered the bathroom, which (predictably) was curiously miniaturized. The toilet was low to the ground and about the size of a small saucepan. The shower, well, I had to kneel down and duck beneath a weak spray. However, the water was beginning to revive me somewhat and just as I started to think: Hell, this ain't so bad Amelia stuck her head in the door and called sharply, her voice bouncing off the tile walls: "IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT IN HERE?"

Utterly startled, I whipped my head back and smashed it full force into the metal shower head. The pain was such that I saw flashes of light and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming.
"YOU OKAY? YOU ALMOST DONE?"
Swooning on my knees, I rubbed my rapidly swelling forehead and weakly replied, "YesII'll be okayI meanI'll be right out"
I staggered from the shower in agony and looked dumbly at two threadbare dish-towels hanging from a rack on the wall. I utilized them to the best of my ability and, still damp, put my sweaty clothes back on. Amelia was standing vigilantly outside the door when I emerged. Dutifully, I handed her the little, soaked towels.
"Do you feel better?" She asked accusingly.
"Much. Thank you."
"Now you and your friends don't stay up too late. I got old people stayin' here."
"Right."
I virtually

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