I have a vent. A group of us gathered at my favorite little local bar this weekend, and enjoyed a nice evening of conversation, drinks, random intrusions by a drunk guy named Kevin, and good juke tunes.
But, why is it that even in this nice bar, with cool decor, good un-bar-like food, a friendly staff and clean furniture, does the bathroom resemble a dusty bomb shelter in 1940s Germany?
It is a treat to make it down the steep metal stairs alive, and when you do, you think a rewarding trip to the ladies room is in your future. After you stand in line, of course.
Instead, you get to battle a dank, nasty, low-ceilinged bathroom with only two stalls, one of which leaks something rank all over the floor. As if that isn't bad enough, on one of the stalls, the door is gone, so they've installed a trusty little curtain hanging on the outside of the stall, but it is just resting up there on two little posts, and it inevitably falls on your head as you slide the curtain aside to gain some privacy. It fell twice for me and bounced once off my head...it was my lucky day.
Lucky is what you call yourself if there actually is toilet paper left in there. I'm convinced that not once in the course of a Saturday night does anyone actually check the state of affairs in a ladies room, much less replenish the provisions.
After the stall incident is complete (and you're very possibly drip-drying), you are treated to sinks with no hot water, and paper towel dispensers that are almost falling off the wall. The pile of trash was overflowing, so most of the newer towels are on the floor (maybe soaking up the toilet's leakage?).
It is an all around disgusting adventure. If only I hadn't ever broken the seal.
Come on, at $5 a beer and $8 a cocktail, can't a lady get a cleaner, more pleasant bathroom experience?
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5 comments:
Oh, and how about when in the middle of hover squatting over the toilet, balancing your weight on three inch heels while keeping your pants off the wet floor, your center of gravity shifts and all of a sudden you're touching the grimy wall to steady yourself? I've decided I'd rather risk a UTI than pee in some bars.
It is a sick joke for sure. At least there is a curtain. At the Georgia Theatre in Athens I had to have a friend hold up a cardigan sweater...
um... where were you?
I must admit that I was at Matilda, at Sheffield and Barry. I really like the owner, and he's been good to me, so I didn't want to reveal it. But, the bathroom situation is sorely in need of a solution.
Imagine what the men's room looks like...smells like...feels like...
Stall doors are a luxury.
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