The Water Closet from Heck

Once upon a time I thought it would be fun to make a coffee table book of Les Toilettes de Paris. (If anyone steals this idea, I will be very very displeased.) But after last night's experience, I begin to think that I may review and rate bars and nightclubs based upon their ladies rooms...

My Vinyl is So Black. Industrial/Goth music at Ararat. Actually, it was more like 80s music that no one ever danced to--even in the 80s. There were a few waifish belles doing the defiant flop, but for the most part everyone was too fashionably melancholy to submit to the indignity. [For those who know me, you will be surprised to know that I did not dance once, besides a demur head wobble and booty shake in my chair.] Either I was not drunk enough or I fall into the aforementioned category because at no time was I tempted to join the defiant floppers. Due to my aloof sitting I was able to slurp a few Bud Lights and watch the delicious show. The downside: Lots and lots of peeing. I had used the Ararat Ladies room on my previous trip, but I think that my BAC was sufficiently high to warrant convenient memory loss.

Upon entering the bathroom I noticed the office/hospital white and pink paint-scheme as well as the papier-maché/wasp's nest look of the walls and stalls. I chose the larger stall [with the door]. The door was giant square of pink and white that was hung on runners with a small brass handle in the center.

I tugged the door, but it resisted. I gave the door a nice yank and it came off its bottom runner and threatened to crush me. Once I realized that it was still attached at the top, I gently pulled it shut and commenced my business.

I am not an extremely strong or beefy person, but either I was running on Hulk strength or everything in that restroom was just on the verge of breaking. The toilet paper dispenser slid precariously when I pulled on the tissue and hung off the wall by one screw. I looked into the garbage as I was zipping up and there was a glass picture of a cartoonish peacock at the bottom of the bin, its frame yanked from its staples. What kind of crazy place is this?

A girl came in as I was fighting the violently scary water-faucet and she chose the doorless stall. When I tossed my paper towel in the bin I noticed that she was hovering 6 inches above the seat. [I really despise this "sanitary" practice since drunk girls usually end up peeing on the seat and leaving it for the next unsuspecting sitter.]

I really like Ararat, but I have decided to use the men's' room and lock the door from now on.

What is it with Portland bars having such deplorable peeing places?! There's a favorite PNCA watering-hole where the stall is so teeny, I had to leave my bag outside and sit with my knees crammed up against the door. I have oh so many more examples, that perhaps I should write a book or long essay. But would it help? I'll still go to Ararat and Yur's and so will the rest of the regulars. I guess that knowledge is helpful, but I'd really rather not plan my night around where I will and will not be able to pee. Dang!