Elephant in the Restroom

Dukes Coffee Company Carey's Lane Cork Ireland

The time to come in here is early on a Sunday morning. It was full of people, but you can find a quieter place upstairs. Otherwise it will be thoroughly packed which does not make for a great coffee shop experience.

The bathroom is down a little corridor leading to two identical little rooms. One has a symbol for men and one has a symbol for women. But apart from that, they are identical. I checked.

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why they don’t just make both rooms gender-neutral. Imagine a situation where there is a small queue for the women’s room while there is no one in the men’s room. It makes no sense at all. 

Lyrath Estate Paulstown Road Kilkenny Ireland

We booked ourselves in for afternoon tea at the Lyrath Estate just outside Kilkenny city. As you can see from the top photo, it’s going for the classy wedding market, and everything has the tinge of upmarket about it.

This being a large venue, there are lots of bathrooms dotted around the property. This bathroom was the closest men’s bathroom to where they serve the afternoon tea. 

As shown in the photo, the first thing you see when you open the door is a row of sinks, and some little rolled-up towels and some of those pump-action plastic containers that were bolted to the wall, simultaneously giving the impression of freedom and security. 

No. 9 George’s Court Shopping Centre 9 Barronstrand St. Waterford  Ireland

I know it’s a terrible photo. I don’t need you to tell me that. 

The reason I have this photo instead of the traditional outside view is that No. 9 Cafe has no outside view. It’s contained within the larger structure of the George’s Court Shopping Centre in the middle of Waterford City. 

Inside this building there is a sprawling, food-court-canteen-style restaurant named in a manner which gives as little as possible away about the style, price level or type of food: “No.9”.

I don’t know what it is about Irish restaurants and toilets, but too many of them are up narrow stairs with branches off to other areas that could also be toilets but turn out not to be. The stairs and landing in this place are decorated with signs and photos styled after Penguin books, with the explicit aim of giving the place a literary air, which fails. 

This post was written by special guest contributor Andrea Purcell.

Apache Pizza Potato Market Carlow Co. Carlow  Ireland

Apache Pizza is situated on a busy corner close to a nightclub in the centre of the bustling town of Carlow. Its staff reflect that bustling atmosphere with a general attitude of activity. They are positive and upbeat, and prompt in delivering tasty fast food to the student town.

However, this review is not about Apache Pizza’s food nor their staff. We must talk about their facilities! There is a “key” available, on request, presumably to deter the drunken horde from converging en masse after the nightclub. I say “key”, but I was actually presented with a plastic handle, with an Allen key of sorts on the business end. I proceeded toward an unmarked door and turned the key as instructed in the wrong direction to unlock it, anti-clockwise. I took the key with me, lest I betray the staff in their efforts to protect the toilet facilities from unwelcome intruders. Inside was a very small anteroom containing the usual washing scenario: a sink, a hand-drier and a mirror. It was all perfectly clean and serviceable.

The Fighting Cocks Wexford Road Nurney Co. Carlow Ireland

Nestled in almost the exact dead centre of nowhere, The Fighting Cocks has something of a reputation among the humble rural folk of Carlow, Ireland’s flattest county. 

We were in the main bar for a surprise birthday party. The target came in and was duly surprised. At some point, I had to go to the restroom. 

Now, normally, when you go through a door marked “toilets”, you get to the toilets. This door led to a little antechamber that looked like you were crossing a corridor between two places unrelated to the bar. There was another sign and another arrow pointing at another door.

Now, normally, when you go through another door marked “toilets”, you get to the toilets. This second door led to a weird other place that looked like a Tron set. This ended in another corridor and there it was. 

The entire experience was a curious mix of traditional and modern. If the new place was a recent addition, the designer made no attempt whatsoever to make it fit. Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

Galileo Cafe 5/6 O'Connell St. Clonmel Co. Tipperary Ireland

There's a new Galileo in town! There’s already a Galileo Cafe around the corner, which has been sitting in the old Tom Skinny's for some time, but they've upscaled to a larger, brighter property (formerly the National Irish Bank) on O'Connell St.

We’ve been in there a few times now, and it’s lovely. The food has always been very nice and the people who work there seem to be as bright and open as the building. 

Today, I decided to go to the bathroom. Full marks for having two gender-neutral, fully-disabled, baby-friendly toilet units. So far, only Galileo Cafe in Clonmel and Jo’Burger in Dublin have had this sort of solution to everyone’s morality- or religion-based objections to certain types of bathroom systems. Everyone needs to have these bathrooms. They are a very good idea and I don’t see any kind of downside. 

This is one of the two fully-fitted, everything-friendly toilet units. Yes, the bar is in the down position. I did that, because I was curious about whether or not it would actually make standing up any easier, but I put it back again.

Gilbert's Bistro 11 Pearse Square Cobh Co. Cork Ireland

As you can probably tell from the arrow in the photo, the front door is not the entrance. The arrow leads you down some steps to an F-shaped corridor on the right. 

The bottom bar of the F is the entrance to the restaurant, where we were seated right next to the window, with a wonderful view of a small dog tied to a lamp-post. The food was very nice, and so on. 

The top bar of the F goes down a narrow stairs to a tiny room with some doors. One door is the women’s bathroom, one is the men’s bathroom, and one is for wheelchair people. 

The male and female units are tiny, self-contained, but expertly-designed toilets, each with a little sink and a Dyson air-blade thing that makes me feel like I’m on Star Trek. The paper was one of those things where you pull a single tissue from the centre of the holder, rather than yanking it out of the bottom, which is fair enough. The soap was in a separate dispenser sitting on the sink. Everything was clean and worked properly.

Tedo 21, Princes St. Cork Ireland

We were in Cork for a Fruit on the Table (a cookbook written by my friend Theresa) promotional event. Afterwards, we ended up at Tedo, which sounds like it should be Spanish or Latin for something, but turns out not to be. (I guess in Yoruba it means “shortage” and in Kurdish it means “WaP_SenineM_AZ”?)

They’re not joking when they say “street food from around the world”. The menu is comprehensive and interesting. I ordered a Lebanese kebab because I’m boring, and it was lovely, if a little dry. 

The restrooms stare down at you from the top of narrow stairs, daring you to enter. A cheery sign assures trepidatious patrons that they should trust in the motion-activated technology that turns on the lights. It took me two tries, but eventually it happened: the dull, barely audible click of a switch tripped, followed by the initial flicker of the neon snapping into life. I’ve never seen a bathroom where the lights weren’t on before. 

There are three compartments to the gent’s restroom. The first is an antechamber of sorts, with a sink and a drier. Further on is a urinal, and to the right a cubicle that doesn’t lock. The door jams into place and you hope you’ve turned the otherwise non-functional knob to show enough red to dissuade potential intruders.

Note: This restaurant has very recently turned into an Italian place called Cibo Fresco, but the furnishings, decor and restrooms have remained identical (including the colour scheme of the frontage) so if they can't be bothered changing anything, neither can I. 

Larissa 31, Mitchell St. Clonmel Co.Tipperary Ireland

Larissa is a nice, bright place for lunch, with a fine menu and a delightful area upstairs for secret meetings. Before the upstairs area there is a little landing with a door marked with the traditional toilet symbols.

Once you open the restroom door, you are confronted, as if in a Choose Your Own Adventure book, with four doors in a very tight space. Three of them are marked Staff Only or Private. The fourth is what probably what they want you to pick, but why play into their hands?

Jo’Burger 4/5 Castle Market Dublin 2 Ireland

We were visiting a friend last weekend in Dublin, and as I have no decision-making skills in direct sunlight, we left it to Ciara to decide where to go for lunch. She took us to Jo’Burger, which looks like it is both staffed and patronised exclusively by hippies, hipsters and homosexuals. It’s a little slice of NorCal right off Wicklow Street. And why not?

The progressive, liberal atmosphere extends to the restroom, which is “up the stairs, through the room, on the left”. When you follow these directions, you get to an antechamber with a sink and three unmarked cubicles. 

At last! Somewhere with genuinely gender-neutral toilets! I was genuinely excited because I’ve never seen that before, even in my six years of living in California. 

Men and women get funnelled into the same area and then branch off into a private cubicle. The men get to zip in and out and the women get to hang around and talk about ribbons and ponies, or whatever they talk about when they move to the bathroom en masse. No one sees your secret things. No one’s rights are impinged. It’s a perfect solution to all your transphobia problems.

Why can’t every restaurant move to this model? It must be cheaper to run and generally more efficient. What’s stopping them?

Jo’Burger is the location of the most glorious exchange I’ve ever had in a restaurant. I ordered a burger and I wanted a Coke with it. 

“I’ll have a Coke too.”

“We don’t have Coke.”

At this point, I’m sure you’re expecting “Is Pepsi OK?” That’s what I was expecting. Here’s what he actually said. Get ready for this.

“But we do make our own lemonade.”

Denny’s 548 W. Arrow Hwy San Dimas, CA 91773 U.S.A.

Denny's has something of a reputation. I thought it just applied to the California branches, but further investigations reveal that it's all over the country. People go to Denny's not because they love the food, on which the general consensus seems to be "average", but because they're always guaranteed to be open. 

This is true: any time I've gone to Denny's, they've been open. Because of they are open at odd hours, they can attract odd people, and if you go late enough, you're guaranteed some sort of adventure.

I used to go to the San Dimas branch at around 3 a.m. after some unnecessary social activity in Los Angeles with my more party-inclined friends. At that hour, all you get in Denny’s are potheads, hippies, screenwriters, homeless people and us.

The restaurant is L-shaped, and the bathrooms are at the very back of the long bit of the L, which means you go through the section which seems to be informally designated for families with small children. 

Walking through the shadowy echoes of happy families just to get to the bathroom is a bit of a trip at 3 a.m., but we were probably the straightest people in there. Even the manager sat down to share unasked-for gossip about his employees one night. 

Lemongrass Market St. Clonmel Co. Tipperary Ireland

If you feel that all Chinese restaurants in Ireland are the same, try a Thai restaurant instead! It’s like Chinese food, but more delicately flavoured and subtle. In fact, you can add lemongrass and coconut to pretty much anything to turn it into Thai food. 

Ignore the deceptive entrance in the photo. This door is at the end of the stairs up to the spacious restaurant on the first floor. 

The restaurant is lovely. It’s dark in the modern way, and has some lovely European indie music on the soundtrack. We liked it so much that we actually asked the waitress about the CD.

But you didn’t come here to hear about the music they play. You came here to read about the restroom. 

This is a probably-illegal photo I took of the men’s restroom. As you can see, everything is clean and shiny. There is literally not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. It’s fantastic. 

There is a single toilet cubicle, and that’s shiny and completely free of any kind of dirt also. There are enough supplies and the design is contemporary.

This post was written by special guest contributor Sarah Bakabak.

The Cottage 7702 Fay Ave La Jolla, CA 92037 U.S.A.

The unisex restrooms in The Cottage are among the finest I have ever used in my short life.

They are tucked into the back corner of the restaurant, far away from the kitchen (they get a point for that since I’ve been in too many restaurants where the restrooms and the kitchen are worryingly close). There are a total of two restrooms (minus 1 point) and I did have to stand in line.

Once I entered, a sigh literally escaped my lips. It was spacious, clean, and it didn’t reek (plus 100 points!). A fresh roll of toilet paper awaited me as did those toilet covers–which, as a hoverer, I appreciate even if I don’t have to use them (2 points).

After using the facilities, I was happy to see that the toilet flushed. I didn’t need to do a second flush, I didn’t have to adjust any settings and I didn’t have to fix any chains in order for it to work (God, I’ve fixed so many chains…) It just did what toilets are supposed to do and because of that, it won my heart.

Finally, the experience was topped off by the moment in which I had to dry my hands. Rather than having the paper dispensers or crappy hand dryers that never truly dry your hand, this one had a Veltia. You may be asking yourself, “Self, what is a Veltia?” Well, Veltias are one of those new-age hippy mechanisms that dry both sides of your hand in less than 15 seconds. It’s quick, simple, and doesn’t use as much energy or take the life of a tree. It was one of the few times where I didn’t have to scrape my hands against my pants so that I could actually dry them.

Mr. Bumbles Kickham Street, Clonmel, Co. Tipperary Ireland

I remember Mr. Bumbles from before the recession: one of Clonmel’s first serious attempts at cosmopolitan-style, hip, urban, middle-class, fine dining. I definitely remember, for instance, venison sausages. It didn’t really work, because this is Clonmel, but it was worth a try. Consequently, they’ve retreated to a more traditional menu, with items like chicken alfredo and a deluxe hamburger. 

A bad thing: their website, which looks like it was designed in 1998, and whose opening text gives the impression that they’ve closed down. A good thing: for the dinner-and-a-movie crowd, there’s a handy zebra crossing to take you to the cinema directly across the road.

As we had come directly from Carlow, I wanted to wash my hands before eating. The bathrooms are down a wooden stairs into what appears to be a basement from a horror movie. The floor of the restaurant is brightly-covered, clean, pine-effect boards, but the floor of the bathroom is dark, irregular flagstones which appear to be wet all the time. The dark flagstone motif is continued on the sink counter and on the walls, giving the general impression of a medieval dungeon. 

I thought I heard someone screaming in the distance. It might have come from outside, but it wouldn’t surprise me if some witches were being purged of their maleficium through the door marked “Staff Only”.

There was a distinct dripping sound coming from somewhere, and the floorboards above resonated with a terrifying rumble whenever anyone passed by. The urinal was a sheet of glass, but you could see through it to a stone wall behind, very much in the fashion of museum exhibit. Maybe it’s a famous wall; I don’t know. 

The soap and the hand towels were all in order, but the toilet paper had some strong opinions about where it should rip that significantly diverged from my own.

Ruby’s Diner 1298 Riverside Avenue Riverside, CA 92503 U.S.A.

After a hard afternoon spent walking through the Tyler Mall in Riverside, we decided to reward our devotion to the temple of consumerism with some fries. 

I wanted to wash my hands before eating, so I went straight to the restroom, conveniently located in an small alcove next to the register. The door opened easily, but there was suddenly a panicked shout, a glimpse of a man doing some bathroom thing, and the door slammed into my face. 

This was embarrassing. I waited for a while, expecting some sort of violent reckoning, and after a few minutes a man came out. I immediately apologised, but he wasn’t annoyed. He was also embarrassed. He apologetically told me that the lock on the door didn’t work very well.

I realise that modern restroom management entails many difficult decisions: paper towels or blow dryers; push button soap or motion activated sensors, etc. However, at the very least, I would expect a functional lock, especially when your restroom is one of those single-cell things, with a urinal and a toilet in the one cramped space. 

The Bailey Bar 1-4 Duke St Dublin 2 Ireland

We were in Dublin on a nice holiday away from the provinces, mainly to buy some comics and maybe some proper clothes. Like most cities, it’s great to have a proper range of consumer goods and to walk around, but I wouldn't want to live there. 

In the middle of the day, we felt like we wanted to have a sandwich, and found this European-style bistro just off Grafton St. It’s expensive, but I guess someone has to pay for the art deco sconces. 

The bathrooms match the general decor, simple, pale blue wooden-panelled rooms. There were two bathrooms when I followed the waitresses instructions. The sign on one door was the traditional black outline of a man with his legs closed and his arms by his sides, but the sign on the other door was a black outline of a man with his legs open, plus another outline of a wheelchair underneath. 

I had no idea how to interpret a man with open legs (apart from some grim Larry-Craig-esque scenario), so I went into the other room. In the men’s room, there were two urinals and no toilet cubicle. Just two urinals, uncomfortably close together. The four walls of the square room were occupied by, in order: the door, a urinal, a urinal, and a small sink. 

Guppy House 5642 E. La Palma Ave. #108 Anaheim, CA 92807 U.S.A.

I visited this Thai restaurant, decorated as if it were stuck in a tree on a tropical island, with three Asian friends of mine one hot night in June. We landed pretty early, and managed to avoid the large queues that had formed by the time we were leaving. The food was fantastic. If this was a food blog, I could go into detail about how wonderful everything was, but I don’t care about any of that.

Towards the end of the night, I had to go to the bathroom, which turned out to be another one of this single-celled organisms with the urinal and the toilet in one unit, with no wall, no separator, not even a (let’s face it, largely metaphorical) sheet of cardboard between them to protect the dignity of mankind. Maybe these people come from a part of the world where you have to squat over holes in the ground. I wouldn’t know, but there is something very uncomfortable with the setup.

While I was in there, I heard two girls outside, who I assumed were waiting to use the bathroom. Knowing there are people outside pushing to get in is not conducive to relaxed toilet activities, but it’s understandable. 

They were not talking particularly loudly, but I could hear everything. It was one of those conversations between girls that makes you think you’ve wandered into a soap opera, or a boring episode of a trashy talk show: this guy, that guy, she likes him, he doesn’t like her, and so on. When I eventually came out, they turned out to be two employees, one of whom was holding a mop, waiting to clean the restroom. They almost knocked me down in their rush to get past me, as though I left something exciting in there.