“Go thou across the ground; go moan for man; go moan, go groan, go groan alone…”
– Jack Kerouac, probably talking about using the crapper
The timing of UWBathrooms’ second post finds your correspondents at the figurative far ends of the earth. Our fledgling blog’s founder will be spending his weekend at the PNW’s drunkest land grant institution — Busch Light State University — competing in the Track & Field against the Cougs. This is a century old tradition, and in the past, the contest was analogous to the UW beating up its younger step-brother. Recent years have yielded more evenly matched scores, but one suspects that this is a result of the novel and unnerving Wazzu tactic: having country denizens spit at the city-folk Dawgs. Yeah, Aaron is probably being spit at right now. I urge all readers to keep him in your thoughts, especially while using a UW bathroom. I suppose there is a possibility for a remote restroom review from Pullman, but that seems particularly difficult, considering the commonly held belief that the entire town is a toilet.
As for yours truly, I also undertook a journey to bring you today’s review. Some non-UWBathrooms business brought my own “business” to one of the far away locales on this sprawling Seattle campus. The Fishery Sciences building (FSH, colloquially pronounced “fish”) is tucked away in the Southwest corner of UW, across NE Boat Street from the UW Police Station. One feels safe and reassured by the po-po’s presence.
By the time I had arrived at FSH, I was so tired from walking all the way there that I had to pee sitting down. Your correspondents typically arrive at the building via King County Metro, and I would therefore recommend this bathroom trek to a reader looking for some exercise. Perhaps on a rare sunny day, the FSH expedition would make for a nice date. I don’t know. Just hydrate all the way there and you’ll be ready for…
The bathrooms, located on the NE Boat Street side are down a declined hallway and past the drinking fountains. Take note of the hallway: bonus points for accessibility.
Once inside the Men’s room, the male reader is not overwhelmed by the utilitarian design. Two stalls, two standies, two sinks, two mirrors. This is the Noah’s Ark of bathrooms. Within ten cubits, I am in the larger of the stalls, owing to my aforementioned weariness. Spacious and clean, this FSH bathroom gets more disabled access points for the construction of its wheelchair stall.
Washing my hands, my paper towel is the first in the wall mounted trash-can. Thinking back, the toilet paper still had that weird triangular starter piece on the roll. Did I pop this potty’s cherry? Amazing. Two in the afternoon on a Thursday, and an unused bathroom. Either that, or kudos to the janitorial staff. This is a whole new level of squeaky cleanliness, and — let me tell you — it makes a dude feel pretty good to be the first. I glance in the at-this-point-expected tilted wheelchair mirror. Points for being so conscious, but this hurts my feelings by making me look short.
The Fishery Sciences bathroom is made and broken by the age old adage — location, location, location. A reader may never make it out to FSH, and I can hardly recommend going there when nature calls. Conversely, its remoteness leaves it untouched, giving the user an almost bucolic experience in the big city. Seriously, if Bon Iver ever took a deuce here, he’d probably write a bunch of songs at the same time.
FSH bathroom is notable for its virgin neatness, sparse functionality, and attention to the needs of all restroom users. One does not leave profoundly changed, but rather satisfactorily refreshed. More bathrooms should be like those in Fishery Sciences. And for that, I award this bathroom FOUR poo-poos.
Out of Five poo-poos.