Just like the surplus of men named Ray who open pizzerias in New York, there are also many pizzerias that are “famous”…but they can’t all really be this famous. Perhaps pizzerias are to NY as people are to LA. Anyway, the most striking thing about this bathroom is the amount of graffiti–easily enough to fill a novella (that’s a fancy way of saying short novel). At least there was a small degree of entertainment value. One tidbit read, “Whores don’t get a second chance- God.” Correct us if we are wrong, but that’s from “Taming of the Shrew”…or Joey-from-Queens-after-he-found-out-that- Samantha-was-cheating-on-him-with-his-best-friend-can-you-fucking-believe-it-I-mean- I-thought-he-was-gonna-marry-this-chick-ya-know…

The ceiling was only half painted. Oh, those Italians! (we can say that, our last names end in vowels). The clay-colored tiles that run up the bottom of the wall are taken over by a matte green paint that consumes everything in its path. The bathroom at one time clearly sported one of those vintage silvery hand dryers, but even that is covered in the stuff, as if some wall fungus took over half the bathroom. The owner of Famous Famiglia might tell you the bathroom is green for good luck, like the color of money. We think it’s the color of envy: this place actually does not measure up to the bathroom at the previously reviewed Ray Bono pizza uptown on Lex and 82nd St, which was not an ideal rest stop itself. At Famous Famiglia, everything in the bathroom works right for the median rating of “5,” but major points are deducted since it is just so abominable looking. Perhaps this “famous” family should have went into landscaping.

Rating: 3.0

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

Best Buy was gracious enough to provide us with the definition of a five. Five is the highest score a bathroom can receive for being perfectly clean without any aesthetic design. You feel comfortable using the bathroom but you don’t want to hang around. We were escorted to the facilities by one of the employees, a retail bathroom troll if you will. We didn’t have to answer a riddle, but we did have to convince him that because of our “celebrity” we would “work on” getting him tickets to an Ultimate Fighting match. Our new friend then let us into the restroom by way of typing the right code into a numeric keypad. This way, no one could sneak in with one of the store’s items and stash the ridiculously large package into the back of their trousers. Of course, if you can override the keypad’s security system, Best Buy is probably small potatoes for you.

We found everything to be gray in this bathroom: tiny gray square tiles on the floor and walls, gray wall paint, gray stall, gray pigeon corpse. The only things not gray are, amazingly, the toilet and sinks, which are kept clean and pristine, as well as our moods, upon discovering how well-maintained this bathroom was. A plentiful stock of toilet paper and paper towel is always within reach. However, the faucets had the button you have to press down on and quickly put your hands under within three seconds, else the water shuts off. This is known in bathroom reviewing circles as “Water Temp Russian Roulette” (think about it…good). Between that and the keypad, Best Buy’s operation is starting to look more like a secret agent training camp. This would explain the gray, plain look, as agents will have to get used to hiding in the backs of  trucks.

Rating: 5.0

Chipotle seemed to spring up overnight in the northeast US, providing Manhattan with an above-par taste of cheap Mexican burritos. Far from the traditional roots of adobe ovens and handmade flour tortillas, this chain boasts a very modern and metallic style and puts the “fast” in “fast food.” A typical Chipotle line at lunch hour extends out the door, but it moves faster than a Manhattan psychiatrist’s pen on the prescription pad. This particular branch held a special affinity to non-geometric shapes and boasts oblong counter tops along the entrance. Large relief sculptures, possibly of the various Mexican gods that three percent of Americans actually recognize, bookend the main eating area.

The bathrooms here are sadly not part of the grand scheme, lacking the shapes, gods, and occasional salsa stains that adorn the dining area’s walls. At least the bathroom’s functionality discourages stragglers and keeps things moving, just like on the food line. The wall is brushed steel halfway up and followed by stucco, and the floor tiles are made from a cheap red clay. Two utility lights give the room an industrial look, more frequently a design mistake when it comes to bathrooms. It gives things a closet feel that may confuse the employees when they’re looking for a place to store the mops (or sneak in a break-time quickie, God bless them). Hanging on the wall next to the brushed steel sink is a waste basket. It’s located just below the towel dispenser, putting a stop to douchey guys who try to “score baskets” with their rolled up paper towels, miss, and then rationalize reasons not to pick them up. Overall, the bathroom was in functioning order, and a handicap rail adds a touch of civic consideration, if not aesthetic.

Rating: 5.0