Since the late 1990s it seems there has been a growing number of food chains that seek to defy the fast food stigma by offering classier fare like pastries, soups, dolled-up sandwiches, and most importantly, foreign-sounding names. Au bon Pain is at the forefront of the movement with several locations throughout the city.

We were directed to the “additional seating” area after asking for the restroom (and again, we did not buy anything, as we seek to find restrooms the pedestrian can use for free). A few cramped tables in a narrow hallway in the back constituted this “additional seating,” and seeing as how this Au bon Pain is next to Union Square, it’s probably to hide patrons not cool enough to be seen eating by the windows (downtown NY, like high school all over again). We waited in line as employees went in and out of a back storage area, and a large bag of bagels sat there, asking to be taken (we did not, those usually go to shelters). An early warning sign occurred in the form of an unpleasant odor before we even arrived at the restroom. The woman before us actually walked into one of the two “oner” facilities and almost immediately walked back out, shaking her head at us as if to say, “maybe you are braver or stupider than I.” We soon saw the probable cause of her distress: no toilet paper. In certain scenarios, of course, having no toilet paper conjures a similar feeling to being on a life raft in the middle of the ocean and realizing it’s sprung a leak. The puke green-colored door is appropriate when considering the floors and walls evidently do not get cleaned often. This dirty state of affairs is not helped by the fact that the “Employees Must Wash Hands” sign is not in front of the sink, but rather, on the wall opposite the sink, and up top near the ceiling. We realized this was starting to affect our impressions of Au Bon Pain beyond their bathrooms, which essentially possessed no character even if they were cleaner and better-stocked. The hair in the sink put things over the top, but at least if it were an employee’s there’s less of a chance it will end up in the food.

Rating: 3.0

From the coast-to-coast chain store that brought you celebrity endorsements from John Mayer, Melissa Etheridge, and the guitarist whose name you can’t remember from that band whose name you also can’t remember, Guitar Center was built on 14th Street perhaps in an attempt to appeal to the hipsters and street artists that have made Union Square their home. Its thoroughly corporate flavoring, however, likely sets it up for failure in that regard. Perhaps, like us, the Union Square loafers are hip to the fact that Guitar Center is in a very convenient location to serve as a public toilet

The bathroom is basic as can be, and soap was sparse when we visited. The walls and floor are gray, with those small square floor tiles we complain about all too much. It’s the equivalent of that guy who keeps writing songs with the first four guitar chords (all major) that he ever learned. The only color here is the solid blue stall door. Our inside sources revealed that the Guitar Center salesmen are also responsible for cleaning the bathroom after the store closes–even though they only take home commission when all is said and done–which basically amounts to slavery. Maybe Prince was right for complaining how hard it is to be a musician, or salesman, or whatever. One cannot be blamed if selling a five thousand dollar guitar doesn’t quite compete with the thrill of mopping the bathroom floor, but the upkeep of the facilities was certainly lacking on our visit. So, though we side with the salesmen here, we must say that someone is not doing their job. We also found pages from the Village Voice scattered across the floor. Most of them were job ads, probably left by the employees. Among the circled jobs were Assistant Janitor and Human Footstool. Reach for the stars, boys.

Rating: 4.5

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

The infamous tag-team duo Taco Bell and Pizza Hut (Known as “The Bacteria Brothers” in the WWE) has staked its claim on the 14th Street western strip. This strip west of Union Square is home to cheap stores and cheaper eats, where shopping is conducted out of dire necessity. As Union Square unofficially presents itself as the forum for the young, artistic and broke, these chains do quite well for themselves. And although many of them require that you purchase something in their establishments, most do not enforce this rule. One could walk into their bathroom at any time without buying a thing.

In the case of the 14th Street Taco Bell/Pizza Hut bathroom, you may not buy anything but you will certainly pay for it. The door’s banana-carcinogen color may fool you into thinking you’re entering a safe place. The inside doorknob hangs from its own hinges and prevents you from locking it. The walls are made of the same cheap brushed metal as the airplane-style sink and covered in filth and graffiti. Under the sink, a red pail catches the leakings from the sink pipe. The floor is wet and littered with toilet paper, as is the toilet. Ironically, you won’t find any toilet paper in its dispenser. It’s like walking into a restaurant starving and seeing everyone eating great food, only to be told that the kitchen has just closed. Two soap dispensers offer the same option: no soap or no soap. If you haven’t run screaming yet, do NOT look up. A square hole has been cut out in the ceiling, perfect for storing a camera. Would we have tried to be funnier in this review, but these facts speak for themselves. Be warned: using this bathroom may put your image on a kinky bathroom porn site, and it currently bears the distinction of our lowest rating to date.

Rating: 1.5

Since our last visit, the Union Square branch has changed the appearance of its bathroom and provided us with another before and after segment.

This Virgin location has a large cafe on the main floor and this is where the restrooms are. There are two “oners,” one for men and one for women, though we’d expect that’s observed very loosely. Be warned that lines seem to be par for the course here. Our first visit gave us the impression that we might as well have been transported into the womb where the idea of graffiti itself spat forth from. Knowing that Virgin tries to be cool and edgy and distance itself from the stodginess associated with huge corporations, we wouldn’t be surprised if this graffiti was written by the employees as a job requirement. Since it was present in such a large amount, it did add a consistent character to the facility. Amidst all of this, the bathroom was kept clean. Chalky mint green wall tiles offer a bit of a change of taste, the piece of gum you chew after drinking twelve Pabst Blue Ribbon beers at a downtown dive.

In an effort to improve its image, Virgin cleaned most of the graffiti from the walls and mirror, but most just doesn’t cut it. Where this bathroom was once a tribute to the punk rock underbelly of New York music, now it is simply another casualty in the war on cleanliness. The mint green tiles were replaced with black. The toilet, once surprisingly white and pristine, was now left dirty and yellow, and tragically, the soap is still missing. They have, however, seemed to substitute soap at the sink for a “Take a penny, Leave a penny” trough, as though the four cents we found was any compensation for walking away with germs on our hands. We assume they were pennies; they could have been bacteria-stained dimes.

Update 07/28/09: With both electronic behemoths (Circuit City and Virgin Megastore) now gone, Union Square suffers a small setback in its public facility population. We knew this day would come, as people are making more purchases online than in actual stores. That’s fine, have your downloads. Let’s see you use iTunes’ bathroom.

Rating: 2.5

While it may be seen as trendy, if natural foods chains like this keep popping up and help the American diet move beyond soda and potato chips for dinner, then we’d say that’s a good thing. Strategically located at the crossroads that is Union Square, this Whole Foods is a huge destination for a cross-section of New Yorkers (who can afford it), and thus it receives steady traffic to its restrooms. Especially for you ladies, long lines will often be contended with here. Given that, it stands to reason that the designers should have thought ahead more; these bathrooms are simply too small for such a location, especially considering they are next to a busy cafe on the second floor. Someone should have told the restroom designers that this isn’t Key Food.

The colors inside the restroom are largely green and blue. We found this color combination earlier in our travels to the Toy R’ Us bathroom in Times Square and can’t help but think that it denotes a whimsical and somewhat child-like feeling, not that that’s a bad thing (if you had a good childhood, or at least a nanny who wore a lot of green and blue). In fact, it gives a certain vibrancy and character that was well-appreciated, as we all know that the majority of public bathrooms are drab and dreary. And it doesn’t stop there. The sinks’ materials are a stone with touches of green in it (we guess green is apropos with the Whole Foods mission), it’s a modern update on the stone water fountains found in the city playgrounds of our youth. The stall doors are dark blue, and again, in the context of the room’s colors makes you feel like you’re getting into some kind of compartment on top of a jungle gym. Inevitably, graffiti graces its inside walls. The soap dispenser has its own twist as well; it’s exposed so you see a little contraption squeezing the pink soap as it’s delivered to your palms. If you listen very closely, every time you squeeze it, it tells you something tragic about its youth. In the men’s room the short, small urinal makes you feel like you need to get out quickly. The restrooms have some pleasing visual touches but the size and crowding deter the visitor from taking them in. It’s like showing up very late to a very heavily-chaperoned school dance; you feel like you should be enjoying it but you just can’t get comfortable.

Rating: 4.5

And here we find ourselves at another Barnes and Noble, at what can be called one of the centers of Manhattan (or the furthest uptown that hipsters will venture), Union Square. There are facilities on both the second and third floors, although they are so similar that two separate reviews are unnecessary. Essentially, they are the same, but you’d be wise to note one fact: most of the characters from Union Square Park, desiring the shortest distance between Point A and Point B, use the second floor bathroom. And by characters we don’t mean “funny haha” (Groucho Marx and anyone whose picture is on the wall at Sardi’s). We mean “funny get the fuck away from me” (the Unabomber and anyone whose picture is on the wall at the FBI headquarters). Now, perhaps you seek out said characters and desire to engage in conversation with them in a public restroom; that’s fine. We’re just providing information, do with it what you will.

These bathrooms cover their walls with white tiles and one strip of green tiling, keeping with the Barnes and Noble colors: white for the purity of an open and seeking mind, green for the color of money. The floor tiles are grey, beige, and dirty (a color never found in the Crayola palette, but all too often found in our reviewing). The metallic paper dispenser provides a crisp and modern touch, the prettiest girl in an otherwise dingy brothel. The mirrors are modest and offer no adornments, the trash is just a tall pail left out. Pretty much everything here is purely functional and the lowest common denominator in terms of basic necessity, a veritable Plain Jane with a little dirt under the fingernails. Perhaps that’s what Barnes and Noble thinks of its clientele.

Rating: 4.5

Circuit City offers a plethora of electronic gadgets, computers, televisions, electric-heated diapers, and digital portraits of 17th Century Chinese Dynasts. But Circuit City is not just another electronics chain. It understands the needs of today’s power-consumers and shopaholics. If you search hard, you can find the home theater section where they offer comfortable seats to experience life in a $10,000 living room. Though you’re supposed to be examining the TV’s crystal clear display and the cutting edge audio, you’re really there to take the load off your feet. Another rare feat is a public bathroom located in the store, not always an option at electronics outfits.

A gray tile wall with one red stripe recalling the company’s logo colors greet you as you enter. The gray may not look good with the floor’s thin layer of filth, but the bright red stalls bring a sense of life — a life solely spent in a warehouse or firehouse, albeit. The pale light brings the dirt out of the tiles like braces on un-brushed teeth, and they are once again that bane of bathroom tiling, small grey square tiles, the restroom design equivalent of marrying your safety choice. The restrooms are spacious but in the men’s room one lone urinal, tiny and low to the ground, pathetically hangs there as if the wall is very slowly shedding a porcelain tear. The sinks are not much better, looking like they only are there because they have to be (see: most retail employees), and one sink handle was broken. Several bottles of water littered a stall; at least it was water. A bare trash can underneath the baby changing station is too macabre to comment on. Even though the stuff Circuit City sells is current, it’s restrooms still have some catching up to do.

Update 07/28/09: With Circuit City’s global closing, we may have seen the last of the red-striped grime racer. Enjoy the pictures, they’re all that’s left.

Rating: 4.5