I come down the stairs into the basement area – and at first glimpse think: Okay. I am about to be killed by an angry penis-hating butterfly-loving lunatic who orders me to put the lotion in the basket.
One look at this view and I am sure I have only moments to live.
I move further into the basement. Here’s the corner. God, doesn’t it look cozy and inviting??
I turn … and find what I am looking for. Although it sort of has a “GATEWAY TO HELL” feel to it. Dare I continue on?
Closer … through the mirror, the “ladies room” glows with the fires of hell.
The ceiling of the dark blue hallway. I’m being buried under bricks … or I’m waiting for a small lonely FBI agent wearing night-goggles to come and save me.
I look down the blue hall to where I want to go … and see a floating roll of toilet paper … beckoning to me through the gloom.
This is what I see, looking up, as I am perched on the ol’ can (actually, I should say as I am hovering over the toilet bowl …). It’s so cramped that my knees touch the door. This is far cry from the Charmin Brou-Haha. It almost looks like a torture device. Bricked in, so no one will hear you scream.
I am now fully ensconced in the red glow of the fires of hell … yet I glance back out … and can still see the blue cool hallway to freedom …
It puts the lotion in the basket.
On my way out, I decide to check out the men’s room. To see what kind of ambience they’ve got going on in there. This is my first glimpse.
I hightail it out of there.
I am about to be killed by an angry penis-hating butterfly-loving lunatic who orders me to put the lotion in the basket
I was fully expecting that your apartment’s basement laundry room was “managed” by a hippy-dippy uber-feminist/almost lesiban (still determining), used to like Hello Kitty when she was little but now is into butterflies yet still retains a fondness for kittens (especially kittens chasing butterflies), who had decorated said laundry room with yellow paint, flowers, butterfly stencils on the wall (and maybe a poster of the kitten in the grass), and not only took the ‘Lavos Los Manos’ signs to heart but insisted that her neighbors used lotion afterwards but didn’t want them leaving it in the room so made sure they put their lotion in their baskets with the freshly laundered clothes, at least, that was the image that phrase conjured in my mind. Obviously, it has been awhile since I’ve seen Silence of the Lambs.
Obviously.
Lavos los Manos, the Hands of Fate.
Carrie – hahahahahahaha seriously – that is an entire movie you just wrote. Hello Kitty!!
“It puts the lotion in the basket.”
Gaddamn, that’s funny. Nice shots, I must say.
The picture with your reflection on the mirror? Love it!!
I also love that you made a photographic chronicle of your going to the toilet, and even took pictures while hovering over the toilet bowl… your commitment to your new camera is nothing short of admirable, haha!! And funny, too… keep the pics coming, please!
They oughta warn you in advance that the restrooms are cursed. . .
BTW, did you have a reference to Poe in there with the bricks? That was cool.
Ceci – hahaha Yes, it seems to be a theme … me taking pictures in various public restrooms thruout the city.
This one was especially cool-looking though – and scary-looking – I had to capture it!
Lavos los Manos, the Hands of Fate.
BWAHAHAHAHAHA! It’s Torgo’s Bathroom! “I restock the toilet tissue while the Master is away…” Brilliant, Ken.