We thought the dance would go on forever . . . We had arrived late one night -- not Rome or Italy. We were in the Catskills, Callicoon, New York. Not Dirty Dancing. Just moving together to the music of Frank Sinatra and the splashing fountain -- it was our first night at Villa Roma. After parking our car, we had walked to the main hotel in the moonlight and danced under the stars. It was getting late, and we planned on coming back every night for that sweet romance.
But we were wrong. Frank Sinatra never sang for us again, and the fountain never again founted (or whatever it is that fountains do).