For anyone who finds himself in the position that he has to make a pit stop and he can hold it in long enough to reach the Ritz-Carlton, we wholeheartedly recommend the hotel's crappers. As you enter the ground-floor green-marbled sanctum sanctorum, you'll be pleased to note the individually enclosed stalls (with no glory holes). That's right, each commode gets its own room with a door, so you can take care of business in the most private environment any public facility could offer. (If Elvis had died in here, who knows how much time would have passed before they found the body?) After you've contemplated the universe, prepare for yet more unexpected pleasures. Cloth towels -- yeah, baby! Wash your hands and then select from the basket of hand towels, rolled up into sweet little bundles. Don't wipe -- dab. Throw the towel in the official Ritz-Carton hamper with nonchalance, as if you throw towels in baskets seven times a day, you rich devil you. This is how kings take a dump! Vive la France!