To say I get caught short a lot is a massive understatement. My bladder is weaker than an asthmatic kitten after being chased around a marathon course by a Kenyan long-distance runner with a chainsaw. For this reason, I’ve visited more public bathrooms around the world than George Michael and Larry Craig put together. Here are my thoughts on some that I’ve experienced recently.
The gents’ toilets in Park Square, Donnington, England, show a lot of promise. They opened three years ago with a building designed by famed architect Dunlop McTwentyeight, with a dream team of rising stars making up the cleaning staff. The towel selection is second to none, and the soap pairings are unusual, yet they work. Over all, this is an excellent, four-star shitter. Reservations are needed on weekends.
New York’s Dalrymple Washroom in the car park behind the 7-11 on Gut Street is a little-known gem, untouched by tourists and loved by locals. Don’t expect any fancy, avant-garde dumps here, just quality craps enriched by locally-produced toilet paper and free-range hand dryers. Cubicles are cosy but comfortable.
Don’t be put off by the surroundings of Rome’s La Gabinetto bathroom: this is a plain loo, but nobody comes here for the décor. Instead, savour the wonderful home-made handwash that attracts visitors from all over Europe. With elements of nutmeg, saffron, Russian truffles and a mysterious secret ingredient, the soap in this public lavatory offers an experience that you will never forget.
Unlike many other theme toilets, the Poet Laureate Washrooms in Toronto’s Dypschitz Park are neither overcrowded nor tasteless. These literature-themed premises offer a quirky defecating experience, with more reading material lining the walls than one needs in a single sitting. From poetry to prose via jokes and offers of sexual liaisons (with telephone numbers attached), this is a great restroom for the unapologetic bookworm. And while it may not be the place to take a date, I am told the Poet Laureate is quite the singles bathroom; it’s a great place to meet people.
The toilets on the Via Trains First Class Carriage between Ottawa and Toronto stink of shit and vomit.
3 comments:
Shame on you IR. That last one is true.
When I get rich in about 5006, I aim to get me a velvet boudoir that the ladies will love to visit. Then I aim to get them all naked and covered in oil but that's another fantasy.
FMIR: It's true. A real collector's item, if ever there was one.
Tony: That sounds like pure class in a glass.
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