"Here’s the key to your room, sir," the cheerful woman at the reception desk said." Would you like some nice fresh milk?"
She held out a cold, dripping carton of milk.
Okay. Non-sequitur time. My mind was addled for a moment. Maybe because I'd been on an airplane for 17 hours.
"Uh, thank you," I said, taking the carton. Perhaps it was the custom here to slam down a carton of milk every time you checked into a hotel room. Good health practice. Yet no one else in the lobby seemed to be drinking the stuff.
"It's for your afternoon tea" she said, smiling."There's a tea kettle ...
Written by Peter Egan CYCLE WORLD May 1995