Opinion: Ranking the bathrooms on campus

Single-user bathroom in Smullin/Walton. Photo by Sofie Szigeti.

While the bathroom may be a laughing matter to some, for a lactose intolerant legend such as myself, there’s no room for potty humor. It’s a war in there. And I can only pray to come out on top. I always strive to be number one. (Even when I go number two.) I am a master of my craft, so it seems only right to share this knowledge with the general public. Even if it does mean you’ll be blowing up my spot. (Literally and figuratively.)

1. Waller first floor

Where one may find sanctuary, amidst the seemingless endless overwhelm that comes as a consequence of our humanity, is a question scholars and philosophers have pondered for centuries. Poet and novelist Herman Hesse suggests one find it in the mind. Psalm 91:2 suggests one finds sanctuary in the love of the Lord. TJ Maxx suggests sanctuary is a home, especially one where it is always wine o’clock. There is a value in all of these ideologies. Of course, there is a reason their supporters are so fervent. However, to me, there is no greater sanctuary than the Waller first floor bathroom by the financial aid office. To weary travelers, you who have traveled far and wide searching for a place to look inward, to start a new life, or even take a fat dump, this bathroom is for you. Breathe in and appreciate the immaculate scent of a rarely used bathroom. Gaze up at the gentle light that filters through the window. Admire it, how immaculate it all is. Finally let yourself believe, you are home. You are safe. 

2. Library second floor

While the first floor bathroom in the library is nothing to write home about, legends of the second floor bathroom will be told for generations. Some say that a solitary figure, unsure if they needed to poop or pee, wandered into this bathroom once. When they saw the feet of another in the stall over, they knew it would have to be pee. To poop would be simply uncouth. Yet, as they sat down, they heard the telltale squelch of a poop beside them, and that sound made them feel safe enough to do the same. There is no other intimacy that comes anywhere near this one, nothing else that epitomizes the feeling of being so close … yet so far away. The second floor bathroom is a place of community, love and acceptance. I hope to raise my children there. 

3. Theatre Building

Everyone knows the theatre building for the art on the stage, for the intricately crafted sets and the heart-wrenching performances. Few give credit to the theatre building’s decadent bathrooms, masterpieces that they are. We exalt flowers, hold them up as the epitome of beauty or the symbol of love. But, do we credit the soil in the same way? Hidden, yes. Less flashy, certainly. Yet, the backbone of the whole operation. To be unseen does not mean to be unworthy. So, today is a win for the underdogs. The wallflowers. The unnoticed. Today is a win for the theatre bathroom. 

Bathroom inside the Pelton Theatre. Photo by Sofie Szigeti.

4. Smullin/Walton first floor single

ancient memory

relic of past, oh toilet

many years you flush

The first floor Smullin/Walton single-user bathroom is a place of contentment, a reminder of the chic simplicity of bathroom design. The window is large, but it does not feel like an exercise in exhibitionism, merely a vessel for filling the space with the tranquility inherent to natural light. This same acclaim does not extend to the multi-user bathroom which is right next door. It’s dark, dank and musty. The double is the haunted house to the single’s chapel. 

5. Eaton second

Darling, Eaton. For many reasons, I praise you, so. I find great joy in your design, in your many stairs, your turrets, and the views from atop your many floors. You are an icon, Eaton. This is why it pains me to admit I hold your lavatories in no high regard. Your bathrooms are mid, Eaton. Please don’t be mad. 

6. UC first floor

This bathroom is sooooo hot. Why is it so hot?

7. Ford first floor

It’s good you’re already used to being on the ground floor because you will never see heaven. Honestly, you were set up for success, which makes it especially disappointing that you’ve betrayed me like this. In the words of Tyra Banks, “I was rooting for you. We were all rooting for you! How dare you!” You were the closest bathroom to me when I had a class I didn’t especially care for. You could have been a great place for me to go and sit on my phone when the agony of my big screen became too much and I needed to seek comfort in my small screen. We could’ve hung out. We could have been friends. BUT NO! You are too stinky for that to ever happen. You smell like mildew. You smell like mold and grime and sewage and pain and lost love and body odor and an algae bloom. You smell like someone rubbed poop into the walls one hundred years ago and it's been fermenting ever since. You smell like you want me to die. And I know it’s not the fault of any of the cleaning staff because the bathroom is so so gorgeously clean. It’s just you, Ford First Floor Bathroom. You’re just rotten right to the core. P.S. Your lighting washes me out and I’m mad at you for that, too. 

Author’s Note: This ranking doesn’t include Olin, Collins, or the art building because I haven’t visited them or had truly emotional experiences within their hallowed halls. To all my science girlies, I’m sorry.