The River Welland used to split into two channels in the heart of Crowland, Lincolnshire, and in 1360 the townspeople arranged to bridge it with this unique triple arch, which elegantly spanned the streams at the point of their divergence, allowing pedestrians to reach any of the three shores by a single structure. The alternative would have been to build three separate bridges.
The rivers were re-routed in the 1600s, so now the bridge stands in the center of town as a monument to the ingenuity of its inhabitants. It’s known as Trinity Bridge.
in primary school we had a creative writing assignment where we had to ‘write about a character in a new, strange situation!’ and i wrote about a squid that was somehow teleported from the ocean to the forest floor and slowly choked to death for two pages and i’ll never quite forget my teacher’s face because it turns out she wanted ‘this new school is scary, i hope i make friends!’ and not a graphic description of a squid dying
well that’s just the risk you take if you decide to teach creative writing
The InterContinental Mark Hopkins San Francisco has perched at the top of Nob Hill for nearly a century. When it opened in 1926, it was more simply called the Hotel Mark Hopkins, named after the railroad executive that once built a home there.
The luxury hotel has hosted presidents, premiers, and all kinds of celebrities. But one famous group of visitors didn’t visit the hotel to stay in a suite. Throughout World War II, military personnel flocked there to take the elevator to the Top o’ the Mark, a bar on its 19th floor.
The Top o’ the Mark (or the Top of the Mark, as it’s usually written these days) was converted from a penthouse into what famous San Francisco journalist Herb Caen called “a glass-enclosed saloon” in 1939. People didn’t always head there for the drinks, he added. “The famed cocktail bar floats approximately fifty stories above sea level, and the view is so staggering (fifty miles in every direction) that alcoholic beverages seem superfluous.”
To the military personnel visiting during World War II, though, alcohol was not superfluous. The bar, with its lofty view of the ocean, became a symbolic place to drink before shipping out to the Pacific Theater. Life magazine published a story on the phenomenon in July 1944, noting how the bar’s clientele had turned over entirely. Once, it was “the exclusive night spot of San Francisco.” Instead, the journalist wrote, it was "patronized by beribboned servicemen,” and “democratically crowded to the walls.”
Crowded was an understatement. On busy nights, servicemen would wait hours in the hotel lobby to take the elevators up to the Top of the Mark. Some months would see as many as 30,000 military visitors to the hotel bar, where an unusual tradition sprang forth.
“One day, it's rumored that an officer from a squadron bought a bottle of bourbon, wrote a note on it, attached it to the bottle, and left it with the bartender,” explains Connie Perez-Wong, creative director at the hotel. Any member of the squadron who came in could have a shot from the bottle. “The only caveat was that whoever had the last shot would need to buy the next bottle,” Perez-Wong says.
Servicemen who passed through San Francisco often promised to meet each other again at the Top of the Mark, and many did, making it a meaningful place of reunion and remembrance for those who didn’t return from the war. But eventually, Perez-Wong says, the custom stopped.
“I don't know if it was actually stopped or it just died off,” she says. But the story “passed down through the different teams at the hotel.”
Then, in 2009, came the revival. According to Perez-Wong, a cadet named Lieutenant Mike Hall, who’d just graduated from Annapolis, came to the bar. “And at the time, the manager of the room knew about this tradition, and he told young Lieutenant Hall,” Perez-Wong says. “And Lieutenant Hall said, ‘By golly, we’ve got to get it restarted.’”
Lieutenant Hall bought a bottle and left it behind the bar. In the following years, the collection exploded. Today, guests stepping off the elevator into the Top of the Mark will be greeted by dozens of bottles, some in display cases, some on carts, all covered in notes and surrounded by photographs, badges, patches, and pins. Some notes contain well-wishes for those in active service, while others memorialize those who never came home. “We also have logbooks for anybody that wants to leave a story or leave a dedication,” says Perez-Wong.
Today, there’s about 80 bottles in the collection. Some of them will likely be gone soon, since it’s currently Fleet Week, when San Francisco welcomes Navy, Marine, and Coast Guard ships. Civilians can tour ships, listen to military bands, and watch an air show by the Blue Angels. The air show alone usually draws a million people to the city. Perez-Wong says the bar hosts an influx of guests during Fleet Week, as well.
Some of them might even buy a bottle to leave behind. Anyone can leave a bottle, and you don’t need to be part of a specific squadron to have a drink, either. “If you present a military ID, you can choose whichever bottle that you want to drink from, basically,” says Perez-Wong. As for what there is to drink, “the story is that it started with a bottle of bourbon,” she says. “So the majority would be either whiskey or bourbon, but we've had purchases of vodka [and] gin. It runs the gamut now.”
This post was written by Alison Green and published on Ask a Manager.
A reader writes:
This happened a while ago, but I’m still weirded out by it. I worked in a very close-knit, small office (five people), where I got along very well with everyone except one person, “Gertrude.”
Gertrude was in her first job out of school, so it’s likely she was new to working world etiquette, but it seemed like she constantly tried to put herself as someone who was doing it all, while actually doing very little (she had the lowest output of anyone). She also had a tendency to try and stir drama — she’d say, “I don’t know why Janine (our boss) didn’t put me and you on this project. I think she’s totally unfair, right?” I’d just say that I didn’t know why anything happened and it was best to just focus on my own work and move on.
After two years of working at this office, I got engaged and wanted to invite my coworkers to my wedding. Since I thought it seemed incredibly rude to invite three of them and leave Gertrude out, I included her as well.
Traditionally, wedding invitations in my circle only include a plus-one if the person is married or in a very committed long-term relationship (as in years). The venue has limited seating, weddings are expensive, etc. … It may not be a great system, but it’s what it is.
On the RSVP cards I wrote out the guest name (e.g., Ms. Sally Jones), with a checkmark box for “yes” and “no.” For internal reference, I wrote out the number of guests on the card, so when I inputted the response I could easily write down the number of attendees.
When Gertrude mailed back her response, she wrote a note in the margins saying, “Ms. Gertrude Smith and sister Ellie Smith.” She then crossed out the number where it said “1” and wrote 2, and then in the box where one should check yes or no, she wrote in “yes for me and my sister.”
I am not an etiquette expert so maybe inviting sisters is a thing in other cultures? I told her sorry, but her sister was not invited to my wedding.
She was very insulted and we had this conversation:
Gertrude: I don’t understand. Me: Sorry, but we are not doing plus-ones Gertrude(huffy): Why not? I’m going to be bored without anyone to talk to. Me: Well, you will be seated with everyone from our office, so you’ll have people to talk to. Gertrude: Well, I want someone I’m close to to talk to. Me: Okay. I definitely understand, so if you choose not to come, I will understand. Gertrude: Who’s going to stop me if I bring my sister anyway?! Me: No one will physically stop you, but it’s assigned seating … so she won’t have anywhere to sit. Gertrude: I can’t believe you’re not letting me bring a plus-one.
I didn’t even want Gertrude at my wedding in the first place! And I had to navigate a whole mess because I didn’t want to leave her out! (She was rude to me for the rest of the year she worked there, I had to escalate to our mutual boss, and she ended up leaving soon afterwards). But was there something I could have done differently here? I know mixing the workplace and personal lives is always tricky, but I honestly don’t know what I should have done better in this situation.
I wrote back and asked the burning unanswered question: “What ended up happening? Did she go? Did she bring her sister?”
She was unclear if she would be willing to come without her sister, repeating that it’s standard to expect a plus-one. I was equally firm in that there would be nowhere for her to sit.
Whenever I tried to press Gertrude if her sister’s exclusion meant that she wouldn’t come at all, she just repeated that she could not believe I was not giving everyone a plus-one. So I kept Gertrude on the “yes” list.
Gertrude did come, and coworkers didn’t mention her trying to shoe-horn her sister into their table, so I think she got the message. But she was standoffish the remainder of the time we worked together. Her behavior was bizarre with other people too so I’m not sure if it was because of the wedding (for example, at one event where she was assigned to hand out pamphlets, she told everyone she was managing the event and got really angry when people tried to correct that). When she left a few months later, she sent me an out-of-the-blue message on social media saying, “I don’t hate anyone at work, but I needed to grow as a person and out of my comfort zone.”
All in all, a weird experience and I’m not sure what I should have done to make it less weird. Not engaged on my reasons for not including universal plus-ones? Escalated to my boss when she was rude to me before? Eloped?
People are so weird about invitations.
You don’t get to forcibly invite an additional guest to someone else’s wedding. If you’re told you don’t have a plus-one, your choices are either to accept the invitation on those terms or to decline to attend. “I’m bringing a plus-one anyway” isn’t on the table.
The point of a plus-one was never supposed to be “so that you’re not bored.” Rather, it stems from etiquette long treating married couples as a social unit, where it was considered rude to invite one member of a couple to a social event without including both (and later, as it became more common to see long-term relationships without marriage, to view those long-term couples as a social unit as well). There’s certainly a whole conversation that could be had about whether or not that’s the right paradigm to use, but it’s still a very common social convention and it’s not shocking or offensive to limit your plus-one’s that way (particularly at expensive events like weddings where space on the guest list is often at a premium and hosts are having to make trade-offs).
But all that aside, Gertrude was simply rude. “I’m going to be bored at your wedding” is rude. “Who’s going to stop me if I bring a guest anyway?” is rude. Hassling you about a decision you’d already made clear was firm is rude.
You’re looking at this as “is there anything I could have done differently?” when this was really just about Gertrude being rude, which doesn’t sound out of character for her.
That said, you were on the right track with “I understand if this means you won’t be able to attend.” Ideally you would have taken it a step further and said, “Since I know the lack of a plus-one was a concern for you, I’ll put you down as a no. Although if you do want to attend on your own, let me know today before I finalize things.” (You could also leave off that last sentence if you wanted to.)
And if she still pushed: “Okay, I’ll put you down as a no.”
If it’s any solace, I believe all the best weddings include weird drama. (I was disappointed that mine didn’t have any! Keeping it small was likely our fatal error in that regard.) In your shoes, I would cherish this story for years to come, and I recommend that you do the same.
If it’s any solace, I believe all the best weddings include weird drama. (I was disappointed that mine didn’t have any! Keeping it small was likely our fatal error in that regard.) In your shoes, I would cherish this story for years to come, and I recommend that you do the same.
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