Chapter 3

On that first morning stroll through that long-gone past, I walked on by several more soup kitchen and bread line queues thankful I didn't have to wait for a piece of bread or a bowl of soup. I had the hotel to rely on. Removing my pocket watch, I glanced at it and the stirring in my stomach confirmed lunchtime was near.

Although, the street nymph's smile stayed with me. I was greatly saddened there was nothing I could really do to help. Nor was there anything I should do. I resolved that no matter how much it would satisfy to help just one person, I shouldn't. Even so, that young girl's smile haunted me.

A tired old gentleman had visited me shortly after I found out I could shift in time and warned me to be very careful. He emphasized shifting between time periods might change things with perhaps drastic results. They could be either to the betterment of future events or more likely, the exact opposite.

Another thing he'd cautioned me about was to keep a strict secret on my abilities. There would be similar results if somehow I was compromised by another's greed. His final statement was, "No matter what mistake you make, don't even think about going back and changing what happened. It will only make things worse."

My childhood mates and I had wondered about that Butterfly Effect and the paradox of what would happen if a guy was able to go back in time and eliminate his grandparents. Would he just disappear from the time line? Or would as many time travel movies have predicted, a devastation to the world order would happen.

The most radical form our musings took was the ultimate of the paradoxes we could form was, could someone go back and kill themselves. The ultimate suicide. The argument always circled around the reasoning that was impossible. The result was a chicken and egg scenario; which had come first.

It couldn't be done because if you died before an event had happened, it couldn't have happened. Therefore if you died before you went back in time, you wouldn't be there in the future to go back in time. Although, in the case of a chicken, contrary to that argument, the chicken did happen. Implausible because with our circular logic, we shouldn't have chickens. Yet we do!

I chuckled to myself as I thought about those chats my mates and I had about the value and texture of time. 'If they only knew', I thought. 'If they only knew!'.

Then a radical thought crossed my mind. 'Here I am, almost a three-quarters of a century in the past, way before I was born, ruminating about something yet to happen. It was at that instant I figured out we all have our own time line. To put it differently I thought, 'We all march to our own Drummer!'. My difference was my time line wasn't the usual straight and narrow one but one which looped back on itself in a very complicated and unique way.

I will admit I was distracted by that thought as I turned the corner and my hotel was ahead. Without thought, I glanced over my shoulder and had the impression there was something yellow behind me. It was just a flash of an idea and when I stopped and leaned back to take a longer look, wondering if I was being followed, I didn't see what my mind's eye had caught.

I dismissed the thought after a few seconds as I glanced down the street I'd just wandered and continued to the steps of the hotel. As I reached the door, I placed my hand on the handle and took a causal glance around. Nothing appeared so I dismissed the possibility I'd been followed.

I was a bit early for the hotel's luncheon hours, so I decided to tidy up in my room. Although, I'd not really touched anything, I figured it would be a good idea to wash my hands and face along with combing my hair.

I'd taken the 'President's Suite' and although it sounded plush, it wasn't. Well I guess by 1930's standards it was. My room was on the third floor with two other 'Suites' so I was afforded nice privacy. By that I mean, my room had its own bathroom. The rooms on the other two floors had a communal bathroom, as did most hotels of the time.

Not that my room was small by any means. I guess space wise, it was as large as any suite I'd stayed in when my family had

vacationed in Orlando on our visit to Disney World. Or the one we'd stayed in one summer when we visited our nation's capital.

Simply, the hotel and the suite was a product of its time. I was lucky the President's Suite was a corner room. Therefore I had three windows with one in the bathroom too. The light beamed into my two south facing windows and brightened the dark mahogany paneling of the walls.

The full-sized four-poster bed was also a deep well polished mahogany. The spires were thin and had the familiar knurled tops making them look like tall stalks of asparagus. Next to the bed in a similar mahogany were two night stands. One had Tiffany lamp on it, which I believed was original. The other sported a recent innovation, a two piece, standup telephone.

The wall to the left of the bed had a High-Boy dresser and a writing desk. Completing the furniture was a high-back chair and an ottoman. Oh and there was a loveseat on the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom.

For the thirties, the bathroom must have been ultra-modern. The floor and the walls up to chest height were adorned in tiny octagonal black and white tiles outlined with a wide solid black tile. The toilet was a similarly modern crystal-white ceramic flush toilet with a high water closet sporting a pull chain.

The tub was a thing of beauty. Raised on a platform perhaps six inches high was a white enamel footed tub. The water mixing knobs stood out from the wall and melded into a sparkling brass pipe ending in a large shower head. A brass shower rod ringed the tub and held a pretty floral patterned curtain made of what appeared to be silk. A large white porcelain pedestal sink completed the spacious bathroom.

As I used the toilet to relieve my almost full bladder, I sensed I was not alone in the suite. I heard a rustle but turning my head I couldn't see anyone. Of course, I only had a narrow view of the room behind me. The window in the bathroom was open a couple of inches and movement caught my eye. The drapes moved slightly so I attributed the sound to the wind.