Planet of the Grapes

40th-42nd Streets between 8th and 9th Avenues

If the Port Authority is a monument to anything, it is a monument to the bygone era of Times Square and particularly 8th Avenue, when pimps, hos, heroin, and hobos ruled the land. 8th Avenue still has its row of adult stores, but of course Starbucks and Europan Cafes sit right across the street, and upon venturing further north, the area known as Hell’s Kitchen now seems as if it should be re-named Purgatory’s Linen Cupboard.

Things have changed for the better or worse, depending on who you speak to, but the Port Authority still glimmers proudly as a dull, dying neutron star of filth and despair. We couldn’t wait to get to the restrooms. The stalls are tall and blue, recalling “oppress the workingman 1970s architecture,” as are the urinal dividers in the men’s room. There are two sections of the restroom, surely to allow room for the high volume of the Port Authority’s foot traffic, so there’s double the fun of the slick, dirty floors. The sinks possess similar auras to those of washed-up pornographic film actresses.

There is a sign in the restrooms that state they are patrolled by plain-clothes police officers. Ah, yes, we thought we smelled the faint scent of past murders.

Rating: 4

42nd Street & Fifth Avenue

It’s sometimes hard to find a little peace and quiet at this place, the irony of which is astounding. No doubt due to its (ill-founded) repute as the best place in the area for the toilet, we found it difficult even to take a photograph there owing to the high volume of traffic. To be fair, however, it was a Saturday. The restroom of course resides in a beautiful building, an architectural landmark, and we give kudos to the original designers of the restroom, where we see their intentions laid before us in the classical white marble motif.

Where this location fails perhaps is in the restoration, like a potentially attractive older woman who refuses to spruce herself up, because rather than emitting a stately and refined appearance, the restroom rather feels like it needs some refurbishing. Not technically dirty, it nonetheless feels tired and old, and thus is not very welcoming. The urinals in the men’s room were leaking and only saved by the fact that they had high partitions. Then there was the oddity of one lone stall, a seeming afterthought, separated from the row of several other stalls on the other side of the sinks; you could practically hear the designer saying “wait, you wanted six, not five?” The sinks themselves are provided for in a very narrow space, as if someone were about to shake this box of bookworms to see if they will fight for territory when agitated.

Rating: 5.5

721-725 Fifth Avenue

Expectations abounded as we entered this shrine to luxury, consumerism, and of course, Donald Trump himself. Would we find that the famous real estate mogul made sure that the restrooms were not just an afterthought, evidence that he believes they can enhance or detract from a building’s integrity, that even the toilets reflect well upon the man, the company, the lifestyle that is TRUMP? We found, thankfully, a strong enough showing, though still nothing mind-blowing. After passing through a mini-mall in the building’s lower levels, we happened upon a fitting and clever entrance, a hallway of red marble ending in diagonally split paths leading to either the men’s or women’s room, depending on which side of that fence you sit (or stand). Finally, a prologue, an introduction, something to announce that you are going somewhere important!

Upon entering the restroom proper, we discovered fluorescent lighting, but since that is unfortunately the standard these days, it should be noted that these fluorescents were the lesser of that evil, at least providing light where many bathrooms we’ve found are too dark and dreary. The sink is spacious enough to accommodate the large flow of traffic, and made of neo-classical grey marble. Would it be too easy to say that Mr. Trump’s bathroom designer should not be fired?

Rating: 7.5

754 Fifth Avenue & 58th Street

Following a tip from an old friend and collaborator, we visited Bergdorf Goodman’s upstairs restroom, the alleged site of many a “discreet Senatorial fellatio session, not from the wife,” as an intelligent person who loathes efficient speech might say. Yes, the sophisticated clientele of such a store apparently takes advantage of a sales staff so petrified of upsetting them that if it were any worse, they could pull a fur coat right off the rack, put it on, and saunter out while being thanked. So why shouldn’t this state of affairs garner, among other things, affairs?

As we sadly, needlessly encounter too often, the restroom doesn’t quite live up to the rest of the store. Being that the store is so swank, though, it still follows that overall the restroom is good. There is something dark about the lighting, but given the present discussion, perhaps that is not accidental. The stalls tell no secrets, as they are lined up perpendicular to said wall, offering not much privacy for non-excretory functions. Apparently what starts in the Bergdorf Goodman bathroom is supposed to stay there, so don’t visit unless you can uphold this unsaid code, or contrastly are a member of the paparazzi looking to break it.

Rating: 7

767 Fifth Avenue & 59th Street

Perpetuating much of the techno-cultural zeitgeist, we visited the Apple’s Store on 5th Avenue to see what this company can offer to the future of restroom design and function. A bit weary that we were directed underground (where the whole sales floor is) and then relegated to wade through a parade of people whose whole identities reside on how many Gigabytes are in their iPods, we made it past the Genius Bar. At said bar we looked for Picasso sharing an aperitif with Einstein, but found a Wired Magazine intern advising a grad student on the joys of pimping his iBook for gaming. After these distractions, we at long last found the iRestroom.

We were pleasantly surprised to find that Apple at least has a vision that it consistently sticks with. The restroom indeed looks like you are inside of a G4 (we hear reports it is an early prototype for Steve Jobs’ tomb, if he dies). The whole bathroom is silver, clean, functional, and has an exciting new faucet/handle design that is sure to excite bloggers for, oh, another week. It loses some points for low lighting (not the good kind, the “don’t stay long” kind), but all in all, a strong show.

Rating: 7

10 Columbus Circle, intersection of Broadway, 8th Ave. Central Park West and Central Park South

When the shopping complex at Columbus Circle, aptly titled “The Shops At Columbus Circle,” premiered in 2003, it was greeted with much hullabaloo and for a certain type (the type with no imagination), became the place to be. Granted, there are trendy, pseudo nouveau riche “guaranteed action if you take a date there” restaurants on the upper levels of the mall… again, for a certain type. And while the shopping center’s founders resist the use of the word “mall,” the editorial staff feels that, well, you can’t turn a whore into a housewife.

At the end of the day it’s still just a shrine to banal consumerism, with no aspirations towards the pursuit of truth, beauty, and culture, and thus, its restrooms are exceptionally uninspired. They are unfortunately hidden down a long maintenance corridor on the second floor. While we are aware that due to the nature of restrooms they shouldn’t be prominently placed in the middle of everything, they also shouldn’t feel as if the architects were ashamed of them. Perhaps the right design would make up for the restrooms’ placement within the building. However, dull lighting reminiscent of Freud’s subconscious while he toiled over the subject of marriage crisis, dime-a-dozen grey tiling, and hand-motion sensing paper towel dispensers that are almost surely playing games with you do not add merit. Where it does make some amends is in basic functionality: there’s room, and it’s clean.

Rating: 5.5

between West 62nd and 65th Streets and Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues

If Dante had drank a little too much wine before entering the Inferno, he probably would have found himself confusedly stumbling through the basement of the Met Opera House, looking for the public restroom. Indeed, we ran into a homeless wino claiming to be the Italian poet. Half expecting the security guards stationed in this netherworld to offer us a ferry ride, we at last found the bathroom, its state befitting its location, as if Lincoln Center were ashamed of it. Besides being under the building, the whole area preceding the bathroom, as well as the bathroom itself, was excessively hot, probably due to no air flow, as we visited in August. Whether it remains so in winter (which would at least provide some advantage), or is in fact freezing (easily possible, as no air conditioning often goes hand in hand with no heating), is ultimately of little consequence.

The bathroom is a shrine to mediocrity. Tired old floor-length urinals in the men’s room indicate that it is still stuck in the dark ages of restroom design. Floor length urinals bring to mind only one thing: mental institutions. Devilish fluorescent lighting assails the visitor like photonic harpies, stalls are out of order, a depressing grey floor tiling gnaws at your feet, and a general feeling of uncleanliness abounds. Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.

Rating: 3

between West 62nd and 65th Streets and Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues

Across the street from the Upper West Side location of the entry above sits ”the real deal,” nest of the culture vultures, Lincoln Center. Since the purpose of our investigations has always been to serve the interests of ”quick relief” while spending the day as a pedestrian, we visited the more publicly accessible restrooms at Lincoln Center, as opposed to those utilized while attending performances at night, which we trust our readership does regularly.

We found that the grandeur of the performances these facilities host are only slightly hinted at in their restrooms. However, a slice of Pavarotti is still a slice of Pavarotti. The sink found here is a clean, glistening black, reflecting the early 1990s modernist movement in Europe. The urinals in the men’s room echo that aesthetic, sitting high on the wall with short bodies, again clean, but losing points for not having dividers. The toilets in the stalls, however, provide the more basic “school aesthetic” of white bowls with black seats. All in all, this is more Andrea Bocelli than Puccini, but it gets the job done well enough.

Rating: 6.5

1972 Broadway, corner of 66th Street

Being that Barnes and Noble is a haven for knowledge and learning, a place one can go to to edify oneself through the written word (regardless of purchase, thankfully, as their attempt to perpetuate a ”lax vibe” results in many using it as a reading room), you may expect that it would house a stately, dare we say ”noble” restroom facility. On the other hand, being that Barnes and Noble is a large chain and must pander to the middle, must play things safely and not upset anyone, one can also reason that perhaps its restrooms will lack any distinctive character or charm. Surely, the very fact that it is a book store gives it some leverage, even as a chain, positioning it to rise above the sick green tides of the great unwashed masses.

So which aspect wins- purveyor of man’s intellect and achievements, or servant of the public’s (seemingly daily) lowering of standards? Unfortunately, the latter. The bland colors, oppressive lighting, and sinks that seem to just ”be there” all contribute to a positively bland and utilitarian exercise in restroom design. The foreboding partitions that form the walls of the stalls serve to make them look less like stalls and more like large coffins. Only the clean mirrors, reminiscent of a Buddhist monk amidst meditation, serve to bring some dignity to the environment.

Rating: 5