Do you See What I See?

During our stay in San Francisco last fall break,

the hotel in which we made our stay offered a continental breakfast every morning.

The parents we always ready first, then the girls
and an hour later, after the doors were closed, the boys trickled in, sneaking in through a separate door.

Everyone, it seemed, had trouble with the toaster. Four slots and two didn't pop up, resulting in badly burned bread.  As we, and other hotel patrons, struggled to help the other get the bread out, a man clad in suit and tie, wearing black-frame glasses, walked over, picked up a knife and wedged the bread out, saying they should replace the appliance, with a genial smile.

We ate our breakfast and continued to prepare for the activities of the day. Later, as we all piled in the car, dad asked if any of us had noticed a large picture in the hotel lobby. We all suggested pictures, since, there had been a few, but dad dismissed them all, as none of them had been the one he was referring to. The one he was talking about was displayed near the front desk on an easel. We all began to guess what the picture was of, guessing people and things when Brett said, in all seriousness,


"Was it.... Jesus?"



No. Turns out the man who had helped us with the toaster earlier had been the man in the picture, the owner of the hotel.

Not quite.