Planet of the Grapes

40 Lincoln Center Plaza

(located west of Broadway and Columbus Avenue from W. 62nd to W. 65th Street)

Having visited the grand performance halls of Lincoln Center and evaluated their loos, we decided to check in with the library that shares its home with these great stages, stages where we will inevitably present readings of our bathroom reviews one day.

The theater of course is a corner of the world rife with superstition, and evidently the designer of this bathroom did not escape the madness. Clearly, said designer believed in in the unifying power of the number four: the elements, the seasons, the corners of a square…and the numbers of sinks, stalls, (and urinals for the men) in the bathrooms at the NY Performing Arts Library. However, the old theater saying of “break a leg” was not taken all that seriously, as no handicapped person is getting in here. There are stairs that must be climbed to attain relief. The NYPAL must be one of the worst places for the handicapped to spend a rainy Saturday afternoon reading Othello.

Inside the restrooms, things are kept simple. With white walls and grey floor tiles, they test our patience for tired and uninspired restroom designs, but fortunately a decent amount of order and cleanliness holds it all together. Perhaps if this bathroom were an actor, it would consider itself an “empty vessel,” ready to become whatever you want it to (contrast this to the stately diva that is the NYC London Hotel). A telltale sign of the order instilled here is a button on a wall that reads “Checkpoint 37.” Being the curious young gents that we are, we pressed it, only to be told by a grouchy guard that we had now volunteered ourselves to go around to all of the other bathrooms at Lincoln Center and make sure we checked them. The guard was not too thrilled to hear our delighted reply that we had already done so, and to please refer himself to planetofthegrapes.com…

Rating: 6

2245 Broadway (at 80th Street)

Zabar’s bills itself as “New York’s Epicurean Emporium.” Taking the “epicurean” term in its broader sense, we showed up in togas expecting an orgy, but were stared down by seventy year old women fighting over nova lox, promptly dashing such hopes. However, upon finding that the word primarily implies indulging in the sensual pleasures of food, we still felt right at home and signed up for all of the newsletters anyway.

For the unanointed, Zabar’s is an Upper West Side institution that is both a grocery and a cafe; we found the bathroom in the cafe. Naturally, there was a long line of patrons waiting to order their fresh croissants and coffee at the counter, but we spied an inconspicuous door all but hidden by the refrigerator. Lo and behold, here was the pseudo-mythical Zabar’s bathroom. It’s the size of a closet and located in a place which suggests that knowledge of its presence is a secret privilege passed along amongst the Zabar’s regulars. The mere fact that we are writing this review may jeopardize our ability to buy some of the best over-the-counter caviar in the city, but it’s a risk we’re willing to take.

The interior presents a decent enough experience, at least when taking into consideration the bathroom’s apparent stature of being an afterthought. Toilet paper was running dangerously low, but other than that, the paper towels and soap were well stocked, and hot water assures that the guys behind the counter are also washing their hands the right way. This facility was not dirty but worn (insert joke about female celebrity here). The globe of a light, somewhat resembling a miniature sun (and thankfully not nearly as hot) provided some character and perhaps acts as something of an oracle for those wondering if the Zabar’s employees are really telling the truth about how fresh the sable is. A cane in the corner prompted us to leave a sign whose message usually applies to the jars of pennies sometimes found on stores’ counter tops: “if you have a cane, leave a cane…if you need a cane, take a cane.” Apparently, Zabar’s is well aware of its strongest demographics. For the kid in us, the store’s alarm system (brought to you by Holmes Security Systems) complete with a keypad rife for tampering, was left in plain sight. Perhaps that’s why the bathroom’s existence is kept hush hush. Needless to say, we waltzed into the store later that night after closing hours and stole all of the salmon we could get our hands on.

Rating: 5.5

151 W. 54th Street between 6th And 7th Aves.

With a restaurant on premises overseen by culinary god/enfant terrible Gordon Ramsey and press promising that its standards will exceed those of even “the most discerning traveler,” the London NYC hotel has much boasting to live up to. One of the worst trends we find in our bathroom reviewing is that a location’s general style and decor will not be reflected in the lavatory. All too often the bathroom’s being regarded as an afterthought is quite apparent, which for us cannot help but detract from our impressions, even when visiting a destination for purposes other than bathroom reviewing (not as rare as you may think). Unfortunately, we see this in many a high end restaurant, but to its credit, the hotel industry on the whole appears more sensitive to the importance of a harmonious and well-designed water closet. Long story short: we entered the London NYC with high expectations.

The first hurdle was understanding the name. What, in particular, does this hotel have to do with London? Is there anything particularly English about it? Aside from a slight accent detected in one of the women at the concierge desk, nothing really. The designer, though, is David Collins, who is Irish-born but works largely in London…and New York. So, perhaps, the hotel’s name is an homage to the man…and if that is the case, we find it fitting, as this rates among the finest bathrooms we have encountered.

Rich browns are the motif here, found in the deep woods and brown marble utilized in the design. We will hereby respectfully decline from noting the particular pitfalls of choosing such a color scheme for lavatories. The resulting hue is one of wealth and comfort, in a fittingly understated way. This is the bathroom of someone who may have recently won the lottery but still realizes that wearing snakeskin pants to the opera is not appropriate. It may not be the august wealth of old money, but it is also not the classless posturings of the nouveau riche. An elegant touch–literally–is found on the hand towels, each inscribed with “London NYC,” just in case you were thinking of stealing them and using them at your next house party. Furthermore, this bathroom provided us with another simple yet often overlooked pleasure: easily dispensed toilet paper. How much time and energy is unnecessarily wasted when one finds oneself pulling out one square at a time because the toilet paper roll is slightly too big for the dispenser? Speaking of the stall experience, long doors add to the privacy one indeed should experience during such personal moments. Sitting in such a stall gives the feeling that you are, for however brief a period, royalty overseeing your small stately domain. Intimate lighting throughout rounds out a tasteful and refined experience. If it were any nicer and were we any crazier, we’d be tempted to eat here. But then, Mr. Ramsey would kill us.

Rating: 8

2289 Broadway at the corner of 82nd Street

In reviewing the varying Barnes and Nobles of New York City, we are beginning to feel like a writer who is paid well by a publisher and spurned on by a rabid but intellectually challenged fan base to keep writing the same crappy book. Sure, there may well be the next Great American novel somewhere inside, but hey, our hypothetical writer just re-financed the mortgage on that summer home in the Hamptons…so on with the “deep” stories and “surprising” plot twists about lawyers, vampires, secret societies and/or middle aged women coming to grips with the fact that they are not attractive anymore. In reviewing a predictable chain such as Barnes and Noble, we certainly begin to sympathize with all of the authors of pop literature who find themselves taking a languid pause from their typing to stop and ask themselves, “haven’t I written this before?”

Reviewing Barnes and Noble bathrooms have thus become more akin to the study of an author’s oeuvre as opposed to one particular novel. For an establishment that supports a very lax atmosphere where people read for hours on the floor without buying anything, they clearly have a strict policy regarding the design of their bathroom. A dichotomy emerges that was present from our very first Barnes and Noble review: the chain’s stature as a bookseller suggests the progressive spread of ideas, while the uniform bathroom designs imply oppressive state communism.

The telltale signs are all here: a general grey coloring with splashes of green. In this instance they opt for the most popular B&N approach, large square tiles in a checkerboard pattern, colored green and off-white. At least these are not those small square grey tiles we so abhor and that are unfortunately in use at the Union Square B&N. A white brick-like tile on the walls add the slightest signs of life but ultimately remain an incomplete though amidst the otherwise lackluster design. This bathroom also shares the same general level of cleanliness as the others in its chain: not clean, not disgusting. One unfortunate occurrence at the 82nd Street B&N apparently lead to a paper towel dispenser being covered in a dried milky substance…which we are hoping was, um, dried milk. Or, perhaps the magazine section may have gotten a little raunchier since our last visit…

Rating: 4.5

61st Street & Broadway

The Biblical Museum can be found virtually around the corner from Lincoln Center and provides you with exactly a room-and-a-half of some drawings by marginally significant Renaissance era artists. In fact, there’s more to do in the gift shop on the ground floor than paying to get into the museum proper. The bathroom is located down a side hall, in a side door. A security guard grilled us on why we were back there, not thinking that even the most devout heathens need to relieve themselves from time to time. He probably didn’t want us entering the off-limits library that contained napkins with Jesus’s handwriting on them, detailing what he wanted picked up for him at the nearby salad bar.

For a religion requiring its priests to take a vow of poverty, the bathroom well reflects the beige existence of non-ownership. There was only one stall, and one urinal in the men’s room. Of the two sinks they had, only one had a hand sensor. Perhaps the other functioned on the power of prayer? The one stall, handicap accessible, is another waste of space unless employees use it to gather in ten at a time and smoke next to the “No Smoking” sign (for wherever there are rules, there are rule breakers…). The floor is worn and dirty with gray tiles, a tragedy of time and upkeep. We expected better from this museum, and now we expect to hear 30 Hail Mary’s and 40 flushes.

Rating: 4.5

Central Park West at 79th Street

Carl Sagan was quoted as saying that the universe is made up of “billions and billions of stars.” Had he seen the bathrooms in the Hayden Planetarium, he may have referred to them as having “billions and billions of germs.” The floors and walls are almost evenly coated with dirt and grime. The accommodations are  numerous, so  you have your selection if  looking at all those stars and planets gives you the urge. You can find bathrooms on almost any floor of the planetarium or its neighbor, The American Museum of Natural History ( known in certain parts of the country as “The Stuffed Animal Museum of Fiction”).

Each bathroom boasts numerous stalls, sinks, and (in the mens’ rooms) urinals. Perhaps they are all evolving on their own. We spotted soap dispensers  filled with vacuum-sealed, fuschia-colored lotion skin cleanser – a fancy word for “soap,” or a cover-up for “liquid star feces.” The top floor’s bathroom features a handicap stall with its own sink and mirror. At least one can contemplate the mysteries of nature and the universe in some privacy. The bottom floor’s facility contains a large mirror and poor lighting (a high point in the brochure for those with low self-esteem). Maybe all of the electricity in the building is going to the new laser projectors.

Rating: 6

81st Street and Columbus Ave

On any construction site, you will encounter an outhouse and walk no closer than five feet in front of it before deciding instead to look for a Starbucks bathroom. Not us. We dive head first… not literally. This deluxe Mr. John outhouse presents itself in the same way a car dealership spreads out its luxury line for unsuspecting victims of carnivorous salesmen. We encountered this facility next to a circle of cones surrounding a cement block with a biscuit stuck in it. Peculiar, but we were near a museum…

Roomy enough for five people to have a forced discussion about wood paneling, the bathroom is (ironically) made out of plastic. The bright blue walls are translucent enough to let natural light in without letting natural shame out. The toilet area has a nice form and shape, and a handrail is available for handicapped people. A hand sanitizer dispenser lets you clean your hands without the need for water. Though we found some toilet paper and “misfirings” at the foot of the toilet, outhouses are not traditionally tended to on a regular basis (much like the emotional needs of wealthy children).

The bottom line? You can dress it up, but you can’t take it out. The form and function still doesn’t make up for the fact that an outhouse is an outhouse, and if you live in New York City you will most likely hold it in until you get to the next facility, which still might be worse than this one anyway. But there is no denying this is a better outhouse than most. Thank you, Mr. John. You have helped bridge the gap between outhouse and proper restroom.

Rating: 5

81st Street & Broadway

The age-old question of quality vs. quantity seems to answer itself when you gaze upon any well-known food establishment. A French bistro with a high Zagat’s rating will clearly be concerned with the quality of their presentation. In the case of McDonald’s, who pioneered the “drive-thru within a drive-thru” and added to Webster’s dictionary the term “Super Size,” quality is put on the back burner. While they boast to have sold over 100 trillion trillion hamburgers, anybody who stops to ponder what is in a McDonald’s hamburger gets a look of intestinal discomfort.

Before the economic crunch, when Wall Street denizens did most of their business on a hooker’s back rather than on their own knees, McDonald’s opened a new restaurant every four hours. This much was obvious given their cookie-cutter design and the complete lack of attention spent on the bathrooms. Here it is no different. The gray floor and white wall tiles did little to personify the vibrant logo and imagery of the establishment (though we know that Ronald McD has a lot of skeletons in his closet…and perhaps bathroom). A thin layer of grime covered everything from the ceiling to the toilet, and the full garbage can spilled litter all over the floor. Atop the can was a perilously placed baby diaper, perhaps a baby’s version of “tagging.” The toilet paper dispenser was despicably empty, a cheap shot at people who take too many napkins. Most functionality was intact: the toilet flushed, the soap dispensers spewed new foam soap, and the sink provided hot water…though most would rather take the foam soap and leave than touch the faucet handles. If you dared, a blow dryer would take care of those wet hands for you. And if you work here, a loose tile probably hides a compartment of acne cream to battle your life manning the deep fryer.

Rating: 4

71st Street and Broadway

Stepping into this bathroom reminds us of stepping into Van Gogh’s mind, at least while he was painting landscapes during the day. No, this is not an absinthe hallucination, but rather a very abstract and dare we say clever way of saying that yellow is a predominant color in this bathroom as well as certain paintings by the tortured Dutchman (give Planet of the Grapes money). The warm light invites the user to stay as long as necessary and perhaps contemplate taking up painting. Apparently some patrons have already done so and hung several small canvases featuring flowers and more flowers.

The walls have a brick tile pattern, a safe but respectable choice, and black tiles with a diamond pattern adorn the floors. We’re not quite sure what it is about diamond patterns incorporated into floor tiling in bathrooms, but we find ourselves quite taken with them. For some reason we enjoy stepping on diamonds more than giving them to women…we’ll let the therapists take that one. At the end of the day though, diamond patterns can fancy up a bathroom quicker than a pregnancy can legitimize a marriage (or is the the other way around?). This oner is well stocked and the deluxe soap dispenser spouts a foam soap, as light as it is soft, like washing yourself with Santa’s beard. The only misstep is some grime on the frame of a large and otherwise pleasant mirror. This bathroom will make you feel like a sunflower basking in the rays, a celebration of all things yellow.

Rating: 6.5

81st Street & Central Park West

The American Museum of Natural History (cue Intelligent Design joke) knows how to wow. It greets its front-door visitors with a gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton (or as creationists call it, “Untitled Bone Sculpture”). The visitors then embark on a journey of plexi-glass and fossils, taking them back through time and space. It’s one of the few places where you can get your picture taken next to a woolly mammoth, there and at Sean Connery’s house.

The main entrance’s closest bathroom, however, will send needy visitors running away screaming. The first step inside takes you down a long narrow hall and into a room with an ill-conceived number of walls. The large mirror is not in front of the sink, but off to the right. Any new users will easily get in the way of those already grooming, perhaps sparking some competition. Maybe the bathrooms are being video monitored and used as research for a future exhibit on “Early 21st Century Restroom Etiquette in Humans” (we’d better be invited to the fundraiser party). The walls sport an off-white, slightly greyish-blue hue found only in abandoned beach houses. One of the sinks were broken on our visit, and the towel dispenser was empty. An upstairs bathroom provides a better option with clean white tiles, brushed steel stall, and a handicap “oner” with its own sink and soap dispenser; it was overall better stocked and in better shape. Logic stands to argue that the better bathroom should be closer to the entrance and not something a customer should have to work for. Perhaps natural selection will fix this problem in time.

Rating: 5.5