650 Broadway

Wendy has a funny way of accommodating her customers. Like a deranged wife trying to off her husband for his money, she seems to have taken a rather extreme and grim method of thanking people for buying her burgers. The last Wendy’s we went to sported a small plate of liquid soap with 1,000 fingerprints (the same one from the Arabian Nights stories).

This time she has really outdone herself. You could smell the bathroom the moment you walk into the store. Waiting in line for a oner, we entered only to find a large, metallic room that looks like a gas chamber. The purple square floor tiles were caked with filth and possibly human remains. The steel brushed walls were covered in graffiti and scratchitti. The toilet and sink were absolutely wretched, making the holes in the ground of bathrooms in “developing countries” (is “third world” un-PC now?) seem preferable. Despite the fact that soap was present, its effectiveness wears off the moment you turn the faucet off; it pretty much had the same viscosity as water. On the side is a solitary velvet rope, a cryptic message we have yet to decipher. Is this supposed to denote a feeling of exclusivity? Only if you have a fetish for hanging out in the worst bathrooms around the city (hey, maybe they’re still better than some of the night clubs). With so many establishments in Manhattan, many of them offering at least sub-par facilities, one wonders why anyone would risk their comfort, and possibly their health, by using this one.

Rating: 2.0

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