Before I run out of here, my little (very little) story about my stay at the Palmer House...
This was in the early '90s and I was in Chicago for a one- or two-night stay for a business convention or something. On this particular occasion I should have just stayed at the Hyatt or wherever most of the activities were going on, but I'd always had a hankering for trying the Palmer House. So I went off on my own there, checked in, and while I loved the old but then-faded elegance of the public areas, I found the section with my room in it to be in obvious need of some upgrading. But no problem. I'm here for the "experience", right? They were busy and I took my own bags up to the room.
As I began unpacking, something felt "off". Don't ask me why I wasn't immediately aware of what it was, but I wasn't. Apparently I hadn't walked into the bathroom yet, because that would certainly have been a shock. Anyway, I'd decided to put some of my clothes into a drawer, which I didn't always do but I wanted to this time.....and there was somebody else's socks and underwear. It took a moment for the meaning of this to sink in, and I then went to the bathroom to discover personal stuff all over the place. Ay yi yi...
Thank GAWD no one had been in there when I unlocked the door (with the old-fashioned key) and walked in. I quickly gathered my stuff and went back to the desk, gave them the key, and told them they'd just put me in an occupied room. They fixed it immediately, of course, and escorted me to a new room with a bellhop going in ahead of me to inspect it. But...wow.