Yesterday, "Divebarwife" over on Metroblogging Portland wrote a post about bar toilets in the City of Roses. The lady's room at the Basement Pub earned her nomination for the worst but I think I can top that (not that I've ever been. I'm basing this entirely on her description).

As of last year at least, the Matador on West Burnside had the worst bathroom, anywhere, that I've had the displeasure of expelling bodily fluids in (overlooking a few campsite Port-a-Pots). Sure, I've encountered bathrooms with stalls that would traumatize most people, the sorts of scenes that could only be caused by laxative-munching circus gorillas pumped full of discount enchiladas but those don't count. It's not the fault of the bathrooms themselves but instead those who use them.

The last time I stopped in for a gin and tonic, the Matador's mens room was like something out a military war camp. While well lit, the two toilets were out of order. One stall was boarded up, the other's door was missing, revealing a piece of plywood nailed to the floor where a toilet had been. The urinals, which must have dated back to the turn of the century. smelled like they'd been graced with the urine or roughly 30 million boozehounds. They didn't flush, the porcelain was worn away in places and they were filled with ice and shallow yellow puddles. The floor, while dry, was covered in grime and dead bugs.

Of course the service, the cool black velvet paintings and the Sopranos pinball machine in the corner made up for all of that. In November, the Matador was taken over by new owners who reportedly cleaned up the bar itself. No telling if their restorations made it as far as the bathrooms though.

Other bar potties liable to make you throw up a little bit in your mouth: the Lotus, the Space Room and the Shanghai. The best one I can think of off the top of my head: the first floor men's room at the Doug Fir Lounge. A private "poop closet," wood paneling and '70s era mirrors and countertops that make you feel like you're in Hugh Hefner's guest bathroom circa 1977? Sweet..

Labels: Booze, potties