Tucked away in the Union basement between Club Alley and the bi-level is a place that can only be accurately described as a sin against man and nature.

As far as the facilities are concerned, this bathroom is nothing special in the least. One handicapped stall, one standard urinal and one child-sized urinal are all you got for your excretions. There are also three sinks, in the rare event that all three people utilizing the bathroom need to simultaneously wash up.

When you’re done washing up, you are given the option to either dry off with some paper towels like a fucking human being, or use the arcane hand blower on the wall that, if I had to guess, was a package deal and came with the building when it was first erected back all those years ago.

I’ve had to utilize this restroom several times out of necessity over the last few weeks, due to a condition caused by eating far too many of Starbucks’ new pastries. Every time I rushed in to take my shit (which has consistently been so urgent that I can only describe each and every one as being a “photo finish,” if you would.) the room reeked of shit. Honestly, that’s not the biggest deal. I mean, it happens. People shit there. Whatevs.

What makes this bathroom a slight against all that is good in the world is  a combination of how fucking packed it’s been every time I’ve gone and the type of crowd that frequents it.

For starters, there was an unnerving amount (said amount being any number exceeding one) of people wearing Tripp pants. You know the look, the one that your shitty cousin who was way into Slipknot or the Insane Clown Posse wore in high school, complete with colorful stitching, chains and a style that says “Come on down to my basement. We’ll chill out, smoke weed and watch Fist of the North Star before my mom gets home.” Basically, the worst people.

On top of that, the place is always jam packed with a bunch of Chatty Cathys, which is unacceptable. Oh yeah, the stall door also likes to, you know, not lock, so there’s that too.

 

Go find a better bathroom. I suggest the one two floors up by the Interfaith Center that we reviewed last year.

Author

Tom is a photographer, writer, and the former Managing Editor of the Stony Brook Press. He likes chili cook-offs, cats, hot dogs, and viewers like you.

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