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27 years old
You are what you eat, and I love bagels.
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Beer, hungover

Me and two of my most daring drinking cohorts were sitting around, getting ready for a night out by eating a big pot of red beans and rice and kimchi and all sorts of other mysterious foreign dishes when I remembered I had been booked to do a stand up set at Legion, at which point I shot up off of the couch, most likely propelled by my own gastrointestinal forces and shouted "holy crap! we gotta get to that bar!" We booked it down Metropolitan and arrived in time to get in some happy hour beers and then, showtime. The show was in the back room, the door for which is right next to the men's room, so this whole situation generates a bit of uncomfortable traffic. It should also be noted that if you are a man who has been eating beans and kimchi all day, when you escape to the bathroom to thrust your fists at the sky and try to make sense of your life, there will not be any toilet paper. Luckily for me, no one seemed to mind when I used the women's room, which was way out in the regular part of the bar, away from comedy and laughter and drunk comedians with stomach problems. In summation: both bathrooms were pretty standard single person toilets and the bar was small enough to where they didn't get slammed too hard, but the lack of toilet paper in the men's room was a bummer.
JackieFlowers Male, 27 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On January 13, 2014, 1:33 am
What I Did in Here: Conjured the Cenobites

480 sq. ft. of sports

If you're in/around Atlantic Terminal and don't want to use its passable, pedestrian facilities, I understand. Luckily, there's an entire mall on the same block, but, even better (!), is the Buffalo Wild Wings up the escalator through the entrance on Flatbush Ave.

It's like any other chain restaurant, except they card you at the door. Here is where I feel like a member of an exclusive pooping club, and I like that. And every employee is so wildly nice, that you can maintain that feeling of plastic importance throughout the night.

The bathroom is an anti-septic box, devoid of almost any smell but bleach. Though remarkably clean, my eyes hurt after a short 2 minutes of being in there, and I couldn't decide whether it was from a palpable cocktail of airborne cleaning chemicals or deliberately blinding fluorescent lights. Either way, the sting remained.

Personally, I would prefer a closet with a hint of cinnamon and the slight chance of an ant infestation, but, hey, I'm a sucker for charm.
bread Male, 27 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 25, 2013, 1:47 am
What I Did in Here: Peed


On the corner opposite Legion, sparkling like the gem of the world wide sea it is, is White Castle. Even if there's only a slight tickle in your bowels, looking at White Castle is like staring at the sun to goad a sneeze into fruition. It's like voodoo. And Legion's facilities are far less haunting than what I imagine White Castle's might be. I do not and will never know what that might be like.

Legion is generally chill. There's a backroom with a tiny stage, a closed-in outdoor area for cigs, and a dancefloor that gets a fair beating of boots and boatshoes on the weekend. I was on my way home, walking along Metropolitan Ave., deciding on which doorway or corner was dark enough to pee in, and then consequently convincing myself I could hold out a little bit longer. This game of constant moral evaluation lasted until I felt a slight spurt soak into my underwear.

The bouncer didn't bother to i.d. me, and I walked straight to the bathroom at the back. Although I enjoyed the black and white tiled floor, the element of danger proved too much for the casual pee-er. The very tame hazard of a broken glass on the floor brought up flashbacks of getting a small piece of glass stuck in my foot, and being mildly irritated for three days. Who can take a doodie in such a time of strife? I did, however, like the seeming encouragement to literally do whatever I wanted, and so I almost peed in the corner while waving to the toilet. That kind of freedom is hard to come by.
bread Male, 27 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 25, 2013, 1:45 am
What I Did in Here: Did a pee dance

Tunes and booze, and a little bit of food

After having written off Bar Matchless countless times as an extremely fun looking hardware store, I finally delved in and explored what, in fact, was not a hardware store, but a chill bar with food, a back-room venue, and an outdoor patio. (There's a large iron gate between the sidewalk and the patio. You feel like an animal. SCREAM.) Drinks are reasonable and they were playing Metallica. It was good.

There's only one bathroom, so on a busy night a line tends to hug the wall, but there's Metallica, so it's okay. The door has a frosted plexiglass window framed by hard wood, and begs you to see what's causing that soft glow of yellow light. You walk through that door and, behold! a standard bar bathroom!

Even so, the bathroom was very clean. I didn't feel like a sewer rat having to touch the toilet seat, there was a line of 4 rolls of full toilet paper, there was soap next to the pleasantly surprisingly hot water sink, and plenty of paper towels. There's a massive mirror on the wall opposite the door, and it has a generous amount of scratching so you can sort of see yourself, and that part of yourself you can sort of see looks damn sharp.

And then you leave the bathroom and there's Metallica. It's a great bathroom.
bread Male, 27 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 22, 2013, 9:41 pm
What I Did in Here: Peed 7 times

Large black coffee

This is my favorite cafe in all the land. Owned by a French family, the children do homework and play Candy Crush in the back, while two extremely friendly employees incessantly crack jokes while chatting up customers. If you ask for coffee, they'll make that, too.

There is a haunted library vibe, with a mix-and-match collection of light fixtures strewn about equally unique tables.

I tend to set up shop, drink 4 cups of coffee, and make routine trips to the restroom. There's a London-style phone booth in the back next to a stage, which, like an actual phone booth, is strictly there to conduct business.

After mentally transporting to the 1970s, you'll notice the black and white tiled floors with a free-standing single toilet. There is always toilet paper, the floors are worn but never dirty, and a fresh roll of paper towels hangs to the right of the sink. It's warm, and isolated.

Before leaving the phone booth, a long mirror imparts a time-traveling impression, disorienting you until you emerge back onto the worn cedar floors and tastefully low music. Taking a "break" for "business" has never felt so pleasant. Try to beat that, Aunt Maura.
bread Male, 27 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 19, 2013, 4:57 pm
What I Did in Here: A steady cycle of intake and discharge


Amidst many hip, novelty bars within a five block radius, Redd's is a repose for dart-seeking, pool-playing, doodie-dropping imbibers. It embodies a true tavern feel, and has a picnic table laden backyard as well as a patio out front, both of which are cig-friendly. If you're trying to pass a load that just won't come, have a few cigs and you'll be primed like an espresso drip.

The bathrooms are in the back, before the entrance to the yard. There is plenty of toilet paper, which is often very necessary. A fair messing of graffiti covers the trash can and the frame around the mirror. The same tag appears in multiple spots, which is nice to know someone likes this bathroom enough to lay such claim to it.

Toilet, sink, trash, paper, weak hand dryer. They have the basics, and when you're drinking, you don't really need much more. Sometimes it smells like there was a flower in there two days before, and is now withered and dead on the floor. There are worse things.
bread Male, 27 years old.
Squatted At Redd's @ 511 Grand St
Brooklyn, New York
On November 19, 2013, 2:53 pm
What I Did in Here: A dood

Butter, all greased up

Most of the theater has a cavernous feel, that is if a cave had a t-shirt stand and a collection of 'punny' logos. To the right of the entrance is a staircase. Go down. Don't be afraid of the long hallway -- go ahead, I promise.
It's like a frosted glass fantasy down there. Nothing makes me feel more at ease than a wall of liquid frozen in space, forever.
The restrooms are above average for a movie theater. There are only 3 stalls and 3 urinals, making it less of a trough experience. Everything is hands-free, making it more of a trough experience.
The mirror behind the sinks stretches the entire wall, which, for such a cliched date spot, is perfect for spiffing up. There is also a full length mirror on the wall next to the exit. If given the chance, I'd suggest the jig or a click tap before heading on out. The place is so spotless, you can't help but dance your way out.
bread Male, 27 years old.
New York, New York
On November 19, 2013, 12:18 pm
What I Did in Here: Peed 2 hours after having to originally pee

Like I didn't miss the party

Pour George is a nice place. You know, exposed brick.

There are two sets of restrooms. One is in the back, near the kitchen. There is a dead-bolt lock, and once you click, it all comes to life. There are plants, neatly stacked paper towels in wicker (mmm), and speakers linked with the sound system. Oh, the luxury.
As long as it's not the weekend, there's usually not a line, and you can spend the better half of the night watching the water drain into the massive marble sink.

My favorite part of this restroom is the variable sense of comfort/extreme discomfort based on whatever music is playing. Either Alicia Keys serenades you into a perfect drop, or Alice Cooper screams at you while you try not to pee on the seat. You never know what you're gonna get, and that's the magic.

The other bathroom is down the stairs, between the bar and the backroom sitting area. It's not a single person room, so you may have to share it with a fellow dispatcher, but if you had a bomb shelter, do you really expect to eat all the cheez-its by yourself? If you're lucky, Sister Sledge will be playing from above, and you can experience a true family moment.
bread Male, 27 years old.
New York, New York
On November 18, 2013, 4:38 pm
What I Did in Here: Listened to Metallica

supreme, 32oz, caffeinated

Having to "do" in Penn Station is like witnessing your bowels or bladder in human form -- in constant motion without the slightest consideration for your comfort. Seeking the restroom will bring you to the public restroom near the NYPD kiosk. The restroom in Rosa's is just as "public," but with the privacy and charm of a "private" establishment.
Located near the smaller and lesser-used LIRR schedule board on the walk to the A-C-E subway entrance, Rosa's flaunts pizza, and cheap, big beers. You best believe the one-person toilet gets used.
If you were so inclined, you could walk in, sit at a table, watch an entire History Channel special on the Pyramids, conduct a seance, and drag a chair out without the slightest notice. Something as slight as using the bathroom is an unspoken encouragement.
Waiting on line is akin to an amusement park, as the t.v. is in clear sight, distracting the unmistakable pain building in your bladder. Once inside, the floor may be slightly damp, and it might smell like a foot, but it is yours to smell alone. The privacy is great, and the noise from the televisions, screeching furniture, and inebriated strangers hugs you like an soundproof blanket.
bread Male, 27 years old.
New York, New York
On November 18, 2013, 4:09 pm
What I Did in Here: listened to the game

plain slice and a snapple. feeling tired.

Walking down 5th Ave. from Central Park, there is not a single storefront for blocks that doesn't blind you with its diamond eyed mannequins. Until you hit Sbarro's. The restrooms are downstairs, through swinging, saloon style doors. The doors are designed safely, and well-labeled. Never have I witnessed an injury.

The stairs are plated metal, making them cleanable and grip-friendly. It's the kind of sterile you find in a knee-surgeon's office, and that same promise of relief.

The last time I was in this particular situation, it was a cold day. At the bottom of the stairs a stream of warm air drafted into the small area in front of the men's and women's. That same warmth continued after entering the restroom. Having to fiddle with zippers and buttons while your body involuntarily decides to open its orifices is harrowing enough, but when your fingers are too cold to bend, your mouth becomes almost as foul as your boots might be. Sbarro's heating system is impeccable.

As far as Sbarro's goes, the bathrooms are tidy. The amount of foot traffic allows any pedestrian -- patron or not -- to walk in without any problem. The saloon style doors feel like the entrance to the kitchen, which will make you feel like a member of a club; that feeling of exclusivity is a special touch.
bread Male, 27 years old.
New York, New York
On November 15, 2013, 2:41 am
What I Did in Here: had a seat and read the news