The first time I visited America, at age 18, I visited my great aunt and her husband in Bakersfield, California.
The evening I arrived, we went out to dinner at an Elk Lodge and at some point after we had finished our meal, my great aunt asked me if I wanted to join her in the restroom. I replied that I wasn’t really tired, but she insisted.
So I followed her, fully expecting a room with lots of couches and chairs Continue reading

















