Planet of the Grapes

14th Street, Union Square

Continuing down “murderer’s row,” or the south side of 14th Street west of Union Square, we entered yet another fast food chain with a conveniently accessible bathroom towards the front of the store. After being stunned and battered by our recent bathroom experience at the Taco Bell/Pizza Hut next door, we staggered into Wendy’s, one of us deliriously yelling “where is that red-headed bitch? She owes me twenty seven dollars and I also want my copy of The DaVinci Code back!” After regaining composure, we re-focused on the task at hand and entered the facilities.

It turns out we should have known that the same forces that set upon destroying the bathroom at Taco Bell/Pizza Hut were also at work on their scarlet-haired neighbor. Once again, the door did not lock, and we started to think that these 14th street bathrooms were all designed by the same person and that that person grew up in a commune (a filthy commune–not at all worth the free love that comes with it). Sitting atop the sink, seemingly embarrassed, a dish of liquid soap humbly presented itself. If you’ve been reading our reviews you may know that we feel bar soap, while fine in someone’s home, is not okay in a public restroom (see Ray Bono Pizza review). A communal (ahem) dish of liquid soap brings to light the same philosophical conundrum that a bar of soap does, and the question is this: can soap get dirty? We didn’t have to spend years meditating in the Himalayas to give you a definite answer: yes, yes it can. And while we loathe bar soap in public facilities, liquid soap may be even worse, for the simple fact that it adds insult to injury. A bar of soap comes as it is, liquid soap is supposed to be placed in a dispenser, and thus a bowl of liquid soap basically says, “here, we’re too lazy to do this right, so everyone dip in.” In other words, “Go fuck yourself” (hey, it’s New York).

Once again, the metallic walls were victim to scratchitti (we hope the perpetrators ruined their keys and couldn’t get back inside their homes). The toilet paper dispenser looked as if someone took a large bite out of it (maybe those Wendy’s meals aren’t that filling). The clean bowl was the only redeeming quality, but that’s not saying much, as cleaning it is the bear minimum the staff should do in terms of restroom upkeep. It’s like saying you’re a good parent because you occasionally tell your child you love them in between hits on the crack pipe. The faucet was perpetually running, but then we figured out why: the bathroom was crying, a once-beautiful woman now abandoned by those who should still love her but don’t, feeling sorry for herself as tears fall into an open food container and mix with what little remains of her Wendy’s Super Value Meal. Dear little Wendy, what happened?

Rating: 2.0