Restroom Review

Restroom is a weird name. I'm not taking a rest in this place. If anything, I feel the opposite of restful. Having to go to the bathroom is a stressful situation, especially if you've been holding it in for awhile. In those situations, it's like racing against an imaginary clock. It becomes the most important thing that you can do. Aliens could be mating outside your car, and it wouldn't matter. The most dramatic reality show that could be made is if the producers made a guy drink 10 straight bottles of waters at a restaurant on Lexington Avenue, then put him on the E train and told him that the only restroom open to him was at New York Penn Station on 32nd Street.

The NJ Transit and Amtrak lobby of New York Penn Station contains a big sign that lists all incoming/outgoing trains, a waiting area, a food court, a bar, and two Hudson News stands. Located to the left of the bar, right by the hallway leading to the A, C, and E trains, are the restrooms. There are no doors in the entrance or exits of the men's room, which is a positive. Touching a doorknob in this place is like asking a doctor to inject you with liver disease.

As I enter, I think to myself of conversations as a kid about sneaking into the girl's bathroom. It never happened, but we still talked about this once in awhile, more out of humor than perversion. It would've been funny to hear how freaked out they got if one of us happened to just stroll in and enter one of the stalls. I wonder if girls thought that way back then, until I realize where I am. There is no girl alive who would trade the luxurious space station they call a ladies room for the wormhole that is a men's room. Even a grade school boy's bathroom should be labeled a toxic wasteland by the federal government. Only authorized ten year olds can enter. Only authorized ten year olds would even think of entering.

The sinks are located on the opposite wall from the stalls/urinals. They're conveniently placed right near the entrance, which makes for a nice clean getaway. There are stalls on one side of the room and urinals on the other side. A wall separates the two, which makes it seem like two different men's rooms. There are separators in between each urinal, which is not impressive because that should be a requirement. After all, the most disgusting part of the name "Men's Room" isn't the second word.

The floors are dingy, and the place smells like a restroom, which is actually sort of respectable in a way. There are too many restrooms that try to smell like lilacs, and it's kind of jarring. The restroom experience is not meant to be a pleasant one. No one goes into the john and thinks "Hey! Scented candles. Let me get into this stall, put my feet up, and see what happens!" The best smell that you can experience in any men's room is bleach. The smell of bleach means the janitor did a fine job, and you don't have to worry about contracting any diseases while using the facilities. If the place smells like flowers, or any type of fruit, I'm immediately alarmed. All that means is whoever's in charge of the restroom is actively trying to hide something. I would prefer that the overloards of the restroom be upfront about its disgustingness, rather than try to peddle lies and distractions.

In Penn Station, they have motion sensors to activiate the faucets, only they never work. I wave my hand in front of them. Nothing. I hit it. Still nothing. I have to try another sink. Nope. Another one. Zero. I keep going down the line until I find one that works. This is the most exciting part of my day, until a sobering thought comes across my mind as I rinse my hands. There are probably people who just give up once their first try is unsuccessful. They waved their hands, they hit it, then just shrugged their shoulders and left. The clean getaway is not so clean after all. I am unsure of whether or not this is more disturbing than the erosion of civil liberties in America.

Along with properly flushing toilets, a working sink is the most important part of the bathroom experience. Sadly, New York Penn Station has failed the test. Millions of germs are alive today because of this faucet problem. For any passengers who plan on taking NJ Transit or Amtrak, I implore you to use the restroom in the Borders right outside on 33rd and 7th avenue. You may save a life if you do so. You may save yourself.

Restroom Grade for New York Penn Station: F