All the light switches in the hallways were timed to go off after ten or fifteen seconds, presumably as an economy measure. This wasn't so bad if your room was next to the elevator, but if it was very far down the hall, and hotel hallways in Paris tend to wander around like an old man with Alzheimer's, you would generally proceed the last furlong in total blackness, feeling your way along the walls with flattened palms, and invariably colliding scrotally with the corner of a nineteenth-century oak table put there, evidently, for that purpose.
In Bill Bryson's travel narrative "Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe," he humorously describes a common issue faced in Parisian hotels. The light switches in the hallways turn off after a short period, which can be inconvenient for guests whose rooms are far from the elevator. As guests navigate these dimly lit corridors, they often struggle to find their way, leading to awkward encounters with furniture placed strategically in the dark.
These quirky observations highlight the challenges of navigating foreign environments, especially when practical design choices hinder comfort. Bryson's wit brings to life the trials of travel, where simple tasks can become frustrating adventures, filled with unforeseen obstacles. His vivid imagery encourages readers to share in his discomfort as he faces these humorous predicaments.