"We better go up to the room then. I gotta figure out the best place to stash it--my fanny pack or my bra. I'm kinda leanin' toward my fanny pack though. My bra's pretty crowded already."

"With what?"

"Two thousand dollars' worth a traveler's cheques. But it's my own fault. I should've asked for somethin' other than twenties."

"About the room, Nana. We don't actually have a room right now." I gave her the scoop on my mad dash to pack our bags and the desk clerk's promise to have our luggage moved to our new room.

"Well, room or not, I need a potty break and fast. I'm an old lady. I got needs."

"There's a ladies' room down that way." I pointed toward the dining room. "You want me to go with you?"

"That's all right, dear. I'll take Bernice with me. She's probably caught her breath by now."

Fifteen minutes later, most of the Rhode Islanders had returned to the lobby, but many of our group were still missing, including Nana and Bernice. Concerned, I headed for the rest room.

I pushed on the door. It opened a quarter inch, then slammed shut. I tried again, and this time it didn't open at all. "Nana?" Could she have fainted...or worse? Was it her body that was blocking my entry? I pounded on the door. "Nana!"

I heard the toilet flush. Then I heard laughter. And clapping. "Who's in there!" I yelled. "Let me in!"

The door suddenly opened, and I was sucked into the crowd that was packed shoulder to shoulder in the small rest room. The toilet flushed again. More laughter. More clapping. Cameras flashing. "Nana? Are you in here, Nana!"

I came nose to nose with Helen Teig. "Have you seen my grandmother?"

"Stall number three," she said as she brushed past me.

I slithered through the crowd to find Nana holding open the stall door and directing traffic. "Time's up for you, Bernice. Come on now. It's Grace's turn."

What in the world? Was Nana giving toilet-training instructions to all of Iowa?

"Emily! Move aside there. Let my granddaughter through. You gotta see this, Emily." She flushed the toilet. The seat was shaped like a big doughnut, and when the water stopped running, it started moving in a clockwise direction all around the bowl, self-sanitizing itself as it passed through some kind of heating mechanism. "Just like a self-cleanin' oven, only quicker."

Grace Stolee pressed the button on her husband's camcorder. "Revolving toilet seat in the Grand Palais Hotel."

The city of Lucerne had to be a thousand years old. There were churches, and fountains and antiquities in Lucerne that most people would kill to see. But not my group. My group was squeezed into the rest room of the Grand Palais Hotel snapping photos of a revolving toilet seat.

You had to love a group that could find so much enjoyment in life's simple pleasures.

"The bus is getting ready to leave!" I hollered above the din. Gasps. Watch-checking. Louder gasps. Then I found myself being spun around and dragged forward as the ladies scrambled toward the door. Even the novelty of a revolving toliet seat wasn't worth being late over.