Restrooms came up at lunch last week.
The sinks at Stadium Bistro? What's with the joystick handle-spigot thingies? One in the men's room has a glass collar that's chipped where the water flows down -- right where a person washes one's hands. Ouch.
Pacific Grill's sinks? I've hit my hands in the bottom of the basin every time I've been there. The slope of the sinks and the position and height of the faucets almost ensures that you touch bottom when you wash up.
Masa's urinal? I sure hope they don't squeeze in a second one in that tight space that's barely big enough for a chihuahua.
Never miss a local story.
And what's with all those automatic-lid-lifting trash bins you see in restaurant restrooms these days? They don't work half the time and there are usually piles of paper towels on the floor.
I dig the piped-in Irish stand-up comedy playing in Paddy Coyne's men's room ("Behind every great woman is a great can."). But my favorite restrooms -- all three of them -- are at Tempest Lounge. Those are some hottie potties.
Share some restroom stories with me, people.