So much for subtlety, but have you seen this place and felt the history?  Oh my goodness, the deal-making and romances that must have gone on in these rooms.

  My friend Melanie, and I, had the opportunity to tour the University Club on Summit Avenue one hot afternoon, recently.  By the time we got there, my clothes were sticking to me and my bangs were plastered to my forehead, so I was feeling somewhat less than glamorous, but once I started looking around, I almost forgot who I was.

For just a moment, I was a confidante of  F. Scott and Zelda's.  Better yet, I was a fellow writer, a flapper looking for a good time.  I even smoked cigarettes.

I was there, alright.  My coworkers call me an apparition.  I don't actually disappear, but I'm a big daydreamer, so I think I do. 

While touring the University Club I imagined I could see a fine haze of cigar smoke in the air while the impressive James J. Hill talked business in a booming voice with his friends.  They held snifters of amber cognac and their women were in their own corner gossiping and talking babies.  If I am an apparition, it isn't moving silently from room to room, it's a drift from the present to the past.  These little flights of fancy don't alarm my good friend, Melanie.  In fact, I'm fairly certain she travels with me.  Good old Melanie.  She really gets me.