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Tinkle Town

This article was e-mailed to me the other day. It seems that somebody has finally done a review of the public toilets in our fair city (Melbourne). I should preface this by saying that one of the City of Melbourne's great claims to fame is that it has more public toilets than most other city's. It's currently averaging one toilet per 250 square meters.

But just how usable are they? I know I've been in some that made me feel the need to shower as soon as I got home. In fact I shudder just thinking about some of them. There are the underground toilets that I feel like I need a body guard with me and the supposedly self-cleaning Exeloo's that have sprung up everywhere, complete with mud and water covering the floors and piped elevator music. Not a pleasant experience.

Anyway, I felt I would be horribly remiss if I did not post it here. :-) You can read the original article here: http://www.theage.com.au/national/tinkle-town-20100313-q582.html I've cut it back for the purposes of this blog and just included the best and the worst toilet ratings.


Tinkle town
PETER MUNRO, JOHANNA WALDON, JOHN BAILEY AND SUSANNAH MCGREGOR
March 14, 2010

We've all been out on the town and needed to find a toilet, quickly. Trouble is, some public facilities are a more attractive place to spend a penny than others. To help you navigate your way around the city's cisterns, Peter Munro, Johanna Waldon, John Bailey and Susannah McGregor offer a critical guide:

Flinders Street Station
Male
Open: 24 hours
Access: Male, female, disabled, baby change

Score: 2/10
Cleanliness 1/5; Toilet paper 0/1; Ambience 0/1; Soap/paper towels/hand dryer 0/1; Safety 0/1; Accessibility 1/1

Summary: This isn't one of those "Worst Toilet in Scotland" numbers unforgettably memorialised in Trainspotting, but it's definitely For Emergencies Only. It shouldn't be hard to see why the facilities at Melbourne's busiest transport hub will probably never be oases of sparkling white porcelain and liveried hand-towel attendants, but remember to put yourself on amber alert when making your way into a cubicle here. Some of the locks don't work or, more mysteriously, are painted over, and the wash-basins could do with some maintenance. At least there are nearby alternatives that won't require a tram ride to reach.

- John Bailey

Ground floor, Southern Cross Station
Male
Open: Mon-Sat 4:30am-12:30am; Sun 7am-12am
Access: Male, female, disabled, baby change

Score: 9/10
Cleanliness 4/5; Ample toilet paper 1/1; Ambience 1/1; Soap/paper towels/hand dryer 1/1; Safety 1/1; Accessibility 1/1

Summary: Avoid the upper-level dunnies if you can (you probably won't be able to spot them anyway). Downstairs is where the action's at, and during peak periods you'll find plenty of fellow commuters increasing your wait time. Near-constant cleaning and solid fixtures that actually work make up for this, however. It's the kind of public toilet where you can buy deodorant in consideration of other train passengers and the baby change room even includes a kitschy wooden high-chair for feeding. These loos are perfectly pleasant as far as city facilities go.

- John Bailey

Southern Cross Station
Female

Score: 9/10
Cleanliness 4/5; Toilet paper 1/1; Ambience 1/1; Soap/paper towel/hand dryer 1/1; Safety 1/1; Accessibility 1/1

Summary: Thirteen cubicles allow a line to move reasonably quickly at this busy block. They're spacious, open and clean (aside from strewn paper towel) though high traffic means the seats are a little worn. Large mirrors and a dispenser to buy mints, pain relievers and lip gloss offer a freshen-up before the train. All in all, a pleasant stop.

- Susannah McGregor

Exhibition Street (between Lonsdale and Little Lonsdale streets)
Male
Open: 24 hours
Access: Men only

Score: 2/10
Cleanliness 1/5; Toilet paper 0/1; Ambience 1/1; Soap/paper towels/hand dryer 0/1; Safety 0/1; Accessibility 0/1

Summary: At the city's Paris end this green iron box is, appropriately, of the old-fashioned French street urinal variety. It's been there since 1925. That might have been the last time it was serviced, too. If you're running late for a nearby show, fellas, it's a safe enough scramble across two lanes of traffic to do your business and the occasional sound of passing horse carriages adds an earthy air to proceedings. The wastebasket enigmatically perched at eye-level atop the urinal itself does raise questions, though, and there's nowhere to wash or dry your hands, so this is probably not the spot to visit before a business lunch.

- John Bailey

Underground toilet corner of Collins and Swanston streets
Female

Score: 9/10
Cleanliness 5/5; Toilet paper 1/1; Ambience 1/1; Soap/paper towel/hand dryer 0.5/1; Safety 1/1; Accessibility 0.5/1

Summary: Good lord, I've stumbled upon the Holy Grail of public toilets. With ample toilet paper in each of the six cubicles, shiny clean toilet bowls, light and bright ambience, the subtle scent of musky soap and beautiful clean basins, these are the Rolls Royce of public bathrooms. The only downside is the absence of disabled access and the use of soap cakes rather than a dispenser. Even the gold banisters leading down to the bathroom tell you this is going to be a good experience, and it is.

- Johanna Waldon

Collins Place
Female

Score: 9/10
Cleanliness 4/5; Toilet paper 1/1; Ambience 1/1; Soap/paper towel/hand dryer 1/1; Safety 1/1; Accessibility 1/1

Summary: Wide mirror and good bench space: it's a well-designed girly lavatory. It's clean (serviced every two hours, according to the log) with a pleasant citrus smell and the decor is modern. With a food-court location, three cubicles may mean queues during lunch hour but it's worth the wait.

- Susannah McGregor

Elizabeth and Victoria streets, underground
Male
Open: 7am-5pm. Closed public holidays
Access: Male and female. No disabled access

Score: 1/10
Cleanliness 1/5; Toilet paper 0/1; Ambience 0/1; Soap/paper towels/hand dryer 0/1; Safety 0.5/1; Accessibility 0/1

Summary: Good lord. A putrid stink slaps me as I walk down the twisting stairs. Inside, it's all dripping sink taps, rusted drain tops, cracked tiles, mould and moist, dark places. The mirror is dirty and there's no soap with which to wipe off the stain. What strange hell is this? Three cubicles are occupied and the fourth is without paper. Better you visit the large lavatories within the Queen Victoria Market, across the road. And never speak of this place again.

- Peter Munro

Enjoy!

They obviously know me...

A notable day.

Today I had my regularly scheduled eight week transfusion (infusion?) of Infliximab. I arrived at St V's at 8.30am with quite possibly the worst coffee I've ever had (that wasn't made by me) in hand. It was weak as water and 3/4 froth. For a coffee house, it's pretty bad, although sadly, from this particular brand, it's just what I've come to expect.

But I digress. Today was one of those days that was full of all kinds of weird and wonderful moments. I wont bore you with the details of them all, just a few of the more notable.

After being admitted, I settled into the room. There was only one other guy there. He was about 60 and looked like he was having a bad day, hell he looked mean. Maybe he's having a bad life. He watched me as I arrived and pulled out my iPhone, laptop etc. I smiled and said hello. He just grunted. And then he stared.

And stared.

And stared.

I tried a few things. First I tried making polite conversation. Other than his initial grunt, he said nothing. I tried staring back, but seriously, this man must hold the world record for staring. He was a champion. He maintained a constant, unwavering stare the entire 6 hours I was there.

At one point when only he and I were in the room he spoke. It was the only time he spoke while I was there. He said "I have been to Brazil". I nodded encouragingly, expecting there to be a story that he was going to tell me about it. This is normal, I thought. Conversation. I was wrong. Periodically he farted or grunted, but other than that, there was nothing.

It was not pleasant.

Feeling very uneasy, but determined to ignore him, I turned my attention to other things. Twitter. Grey's Anatomy, politely chatting to a nurse, when quite out of nowhere, Staring Man snored. It was a loud, unmistakable, slightly drawn-out snore! The nurse and I looked at each other, my confusion clearly reflected on her face. Staring Man's eyes were wide open and he appeared to be... well... staring right at me. The nurse went over to him, peered at him from no more than 6 inches away.

"Hmph." She said. "He's asleep with his eyes open." and then, as she backed away from him: "That's creepy!". No shit, trying being in his line of sight. I tried to close the curtain, but it was almost immediately opened by a nurse who informed me that they must to be able to see me in case I have a reaction.

Which really brings me to the next notable thing that happened to me today. I had a reaction to the transfusion. I started feeling restless and agitated and a strong feeling of wanting to rip the needle from my arm and get the heck out of there came over me (and no, this had nothing to do with staring man).

It's hard to describe what I was feeling. My blood pressure shot up, which is impressive considering I normally have low blood pressure and my temperature spiked. I debated about telling them for a moment because Infliximab has basically saved my bacon and I don't want them to take me off it, but of course, common sense prevailed and I called the nurse.

That's when it occurred to me that this is how I feel after having Maxalon (anti-nausea medication which I am now allergic too). I mentioned this to the nurse who informed me that yes, they quite often give Maxalon in the pre-meds as a preemptive strike because many patients feel nauseous, and yes, it appears I was given it today.

I was tired, unnerved by Staring Man, irritated by the late start and now having an allergic reaction that made me feel like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I lost it. "Why would you give me an anti-nausea medication I'm allergic to when I'm not even nauseous???" I held up the bright red allergic alert on my wrist and shook it in front of her face. "See this thing? It's not a fashion statement. It's not there because it goes which my shoes! It's there so you know not to give me medication I'm allergic to! It has no purpose if you don't actually look at it." She mumbled something I couldn't hear and then told me to calm down. "I can understand why your upset but if you would just calm down"

"Listen lady" I said through clenched teeth ('listen lady/buddy' is my standard response when I'm desperately trying not to say, hey fucktard), "you gave me a medication I'm allergic to. I'm agitated and restless. It's what happens when I have this medication. I'm not freaking out. It's part of the bloody reaction." She told me to calm down again and I told her in no uncertain terms to go away.

Meanwhile, Staring Man kept up his ongoing vigil.

The nurse-in-charge came in. We had a similar exchange and she asked me if I wanted to lodge a complaint. I waved her away. I was in no frame of mind for that. Although I may lodge one in the next few days. I need to be clear in my head about what I'm actually complaining about.

Mind you, at no time did any of these nurses try to help me, other than taking my blood pressure and temperature. There were no words of reassurance, no soothing tones, no consulting with a doctor (that I was aware of at least) and no apology. There was certainly no "are you alright to drive home?" (which I did) or "will there be somebody with you at home, just in case?" (which there is).

Eventually the transfusion finished and a nurse came in and hurriedly took out the bunt and sent me on my way. She'll get cained later, since I'm supposed to stay for an hour after the transfusion or until everything returns to normal if there's been any kind of reaction. I think she was glad to see the back of the agitated crazy lady in 16b. I wasn't about to correct her mistake, I was jumping at the bit to get out of there.

I wonder if Staring Man missed me after I left?

I have deliberately saved the most notable thing for last. I went to see my specialist today. That's probably a blog in itself, but I'll save that for another day. The short story is that he decided to take me off the chemo drug. Harrah! No more Methotrexate. No more weekly injections at 9.30am on my day off. No more dry skin. No more hair falling out. No more monthly blood tests. No more nausea.

Joy of joy's. While he didn't actually use the big R word. He did impress upon me how much better my guts looked and my other test results were. Anyway, more on that another time. (Soon, I swear)

Staring Man aside, today was a good day.