So In Vienna They Made Us Furnish Our Own Soap And Then Charged
Us More For A Bath Than They Did For A Meal.
Still, by their
standards, I dare say they were right.
A meal is a necessity, but
a bath is an exotic luxury; and, since they have no extensive
tariff laws in Austria, it is but fair that the foreigner should
pay the tax. I know I paid mine, one way or another.
Speaking of bathing reminds me of washing; and speaking of washing
reminds me of an adventure I had in Vienna in connection with a
white waistcoat - or, as we would call it down where I was raised,
a dress vest. This vest had become soiled through travel and wear
across Europe. At Vienna I intrusted it to the laundry along with
certain other garments. When the bundle came back my vest was
among the missing.
The maid did not seem to be able to comprehend the brand of German
I use in casual conversation; so, through an interpreter, I explained
to her that I was shy one white vest. For two days she brought
all sorts of vests and submitted them to me on approval - thin ones
and thick ones; old ones and new ones; slick ones and woolly ones;
fringed ones and frayed ones. I think the woman had a private
vest mine somewhere, and went and tapped a fresh vein on my account
every few minutes; but it never was the right vest she brought me.
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