Restroom "Horror" Stories - The Repulsive Restaurant
These are the cryptic tales from the throne.
Here at Visionstate, we design a bathroom application that helps manage restroom cleanliness by the name of WANDA. What better way to understand its need than to express the tales that make you want to forget your experience at a public facility. Plus, it’s almost Halloween! So curl up next to your fire, grab the pillow you can hide behind, and prepare to be horrified (kind of)…
The Repulsive Restaurant
It’s 5:00 pm on a Saturday evening and bustling shoppers are beginning to crowd in front of the mall’s restaurant district for dinner. Tonight is the first date night in a couple of months, and we were lucky to get a table so quickly. Starving, I excitedly begin to peruse the menu for something to eat and quickly settle on delicious finger-food: fries and onion rings. As I hand the menu to the waiter, I decide that I should probably go wash my hands and while I’m at it, I’ll use the washroom as well.
I smile serenely at my date, make the trek, open the bathroom door and –Oh my god.
I had just entered a ten feet by ten feet destruction zone. In front of me is an angry mother and her two daughters washing their hands over filthy sinks, dripping onto already sopping floors, and nowhere for me to stand. To the left, young emaciated eyes stare up sadly at me for having to hold a sticky stall door closed while someone uses the toilet; I guess that door doesn’t lock. I double check the other stall and it’s also occupied. Calm down, Breathe –actually don’t breathe; the stench is overwhelming.
The mother and daughters leave the room while I am left with the sad little girl and two strangers. Finally, the sound of a toilet flushing kills the silence and I silently pray, “please be available, stall that locks; please be available, stall that locks”… and the sad little girl release the door to let her sister out. Fan-frickin-tastic.
I step inside and test the lock; maybe the girl didn’t know how to use it! No such luck. I take in my surroundings: floor around the toilet –wet with who-knows-what; toilet paper – strewn around and soaked to the floor; stall door –broken lock. Ok, duly noted: Do not touch anything.
Business completed I go to wash my hands. As I turn away from the sink, ready to leave, an evil metal snake-of-a-door-handle is separating me from the outside world. My eyes dart frantically around the room to search for paper towel… and there is nothing. Stifling a cry of self-pity, my hand instantly forms a pinch to limit the contact but what other choice do I have? Who knows how many other victims fled the scene without washing their hands?! I shudder, pull on the door handle, and scurry out of that forsaken place.
Making my way back to the table, I sit down and my plate arrives. All I can do is stare at it; appetite lost. So much for washing my hands; I can’t even believe people serve food here. I think I’ll eat at home from now on.