Pisspot

UPDATE 8/21: My father just left me a phone message to let me know that his restroom would have wall to wall carpeting to capture any spill-over and absorb the aroma for generations to come.
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While taking a leak today, I started to think about Cathy's store vs. my father's (and Aunt's) jewelry shop.

Cathy's concept has to do with creating an atmosphere where items can be highlighted without too much clutter or interference with the thought that minimal stock will allow the quality to stand out. My father is old school and likes to put as much product in front of the costumer as possible, with the thought that low prices and lots of variety will drive sales.

Both are merchandising concepts with their own positive attributes and the truth is that both can work. When done well, both can lead to a lavish lifestyle for yours truly.

However, while taking said leak earlier today, my thoughts wandered and I began to wonder, "what if these two visionaries took their individual concepts and brought them to the design of the men's rooms?" My vision was this.

The Cathy inspired men's lavatory vision:

One large 20 x 16 cream colored room with just one white urinal in the middle and a basic faucet in the corner. No sink, just a drain in the floor. I imagine a man in a double breasted suit and wingtips walking silently into the room, standing in front of the urinal, unzipping, doing his business and departing. He doesn't wash his hands. A few seconds later, another similar looking man enters and follows the same routine. This continues infinitely as the line outside of the door has no discernible end. In the corner of the room calmly sits a Labrador retriever puppy.

Lee Kohn house of piss men's room:

One cramped 20 x 16 green and brown tiled room with hundreds of urinals inches apart. Some of these urinals are on corners, and their piss-catcher-tips nearly touch. Large troughs of disinfected water serve as hand washing stations. While starting empty, hundreds of large men, from what seem to be an Eagles game, pour into the room and work their way into the urinals. Since they are all so close together, men touch thighs, feeling awkward, shout homophobic slurs at one another. In the middle, an older man has dropped his trousers to his ankles, farts while taking a piss. In a few seconds all of the men, feeling creepy, but with infinitely less in their bladder, bolt for the door. None of them wash their hands. In the corner, Christmas decorations are hung, but are not turned on since it is August.

Buddy Holly & blueberries

These "Cricket" mobile phone store are popping up all over DC like swine flu in an elementary school. Does DC really need more commercial eyesores? Cathy's store sits about a block and a half away from a new one of these places and almost helps to create a karmic zeroing of their aesthetic banality. What a waste of positive visual space.

This past weekend we put up the permanent sign for the space. It was one of the first pieces completed, but the DCRA was maddening as usual, and the sign permit ended up taking a back seat to more pressing paperwork. Finally, Cathy succeeded in showing enough leg to get the permits, and we were off. Unlike with the Cricket Mobile stores, we have done most of this work ourselves or with the help of good friends who have a high tolerance for aggravation. Using a 24 ft. ladder, a hammer drill and the keen ability to ignore common sense, I was able to secure the sign in place. Many of our new neighbors came out to smoke, talk shop, and watch the semi-semi-professional work up close. 3/4 of the way through the process I removed a dull drill bit that had been stripped. As with all of the small tools I was using, I placed it in my left shirt pocket. What I didn't think of was that the drill bit has gotten molten hot and, while precariously perched atop the 24 foot ladder, and I had to struggle to get the bit away from my person before I set myself on fire. Thankfully I didn't fall, but my left nipple did not fare so well.

The Montana festival feels like a lifetime ago at this point. Cathy and I are gearing up for the Maine festival where I will run around like a mad man making sure that the hundreds of artists are happy while Cathy will be digging for old clothes and stuffing her face with lobster and blueberries (often all three at the same time).