Buckle up, friends, you have me for two reviews this month because Emily was busy being a responsible, involved parent on St. Patrick’s Day. Do you know what responsible, involved parents do on St. Patrick’s Day? They turn their kid’s cashew milk green with all-natural, homemade food coloring they cooked on their solar-powered stove top and make a leprechaun catcher from the twigs of a tree they grew from the single seed of an organic apple.
I didn’t do those things on St. Patrick’s Day. Truth be told, Emily probably didn’t either. I did, however, throw a hand-me-down t-shirt that read “Mr. Lucky” over my child’s head, and then I left him with his dad to briefly partake in some St. Patrick’s Day festivities.
It’s been a very long time since I last found myself at a bar in the middle of a Sunday wearing a beaded necklace with a Fireball medallion, but St. Patrick’s Day 2019 was a day for history — herstory, really — and some bar bathroom adventures.
I’m proud to say I wasn’t having bathroom adventures of my own. I only got to witness them from afar, and that was good enough for me. A hangover after the age of 30 is a multi-day event, and when it starts with vomiting before you’re even done drinking, well, I don’t want to know what that means by the time you sober up.
My first stop in my two-stop St. Patty’s Day tour lineup was Barmacy, said to be “a place where you can get your medicine with no prescription.” I wouldn’t call Guinness medicine, but after I ordered it, I checked my purse to make sure I had some just in case I needed it later. Once I found my purse void of Ibuprofen but chock-full of wipes and marbles, I took a walk.
The bathrooms at Barmacy are at the back of a room to the side of the bar with a lot of nice natural light. While this sounds (and looks) like a decent setup, it ended up being inconvenient, as a pool table sits a few feet away from the bathroom entrance. I actually had to dodge a pool stick and move through the center of a crowd of people who’d had more than one Guiness already, were at least a foot taller than me, and were not interested in moving until I had to physically adjust their positions. This was, unfortunately, the only path to the bathroom, so I had to repeat this uncomfortable event on my way out.
The Barmacy bathroom is above average when it comes to bar bathrooms. The floor wasn’t wet or sticky or covered with toilet paper bits. The toilets were clean, there was plenty of toilet paper available, and the warm water on the sink actually ran warm. There is a nice balance of dark and light in the small space, with hues of black, gray, and white.
The most interesting visual feature in Barmacy’s women’s room is the countertop that showcases an assortment of beer-themed coasters. While it is fun to look at, it kind of clashes with the modern vibe of the rest of the place.
Two stalls are available here, and the non-handicapped one threw me for a loop when I opened the door because the toilet faces sideways, not the door. For someone who is spatially-challenged to begin with, this setup is a little confusing, but it certainly makes the experience unique.
Overall, Barmacy’s bathroom is solid. I give it a ⅘ toilets.
The Getaway Pub
From Barmacy, I traveled to The Getaway Pub in the Valley. Usually I find going to the Valley annoying. I don’t live that far from it, yet, somehow, it takes 87 years to get there. Luckily, I wasn’t driving and was able to simply experience the magic. Just kidding. There wasn’t any of that.
The Getaway Pub had live music on St. Patrick’s Day, a lovely duo belting out some of my favorite 90s tunes. It wasn’t what I expected at a bar that looks kind of hole-in-the-wall-y, but I was pleased. Unfortunately, one guy was not pleased, and made his aversion to the musical entertainment public. He was pretty insulted the singer wasn’t singing Danny Boy. (I bet he spent all of his day being this insulted, as none of the music I heard while just walking around outside featured bagpipes or tin whistles.)
Since I decided I was done drinking after my two whole beers at Barmacy, there wasn’t much for me to do besides check out the bathroom at The Getaway, which is located at the back of the barroom to the right of the bar.
We all know how much Emily and I appreciate private bathrooms with locking doors, and this bathroom could be one of them. Instead, it has a single stall with a door that requires your finger for locking and the standard wasted space a single stall bathroom includes. However, the events at The Getaway have made me think we’ve, perhaps, overlooked a benefit that only a single stall bathroom can provide: while one cannot go pee while a friend does the same, one can stand by the sink and make sure a friend barfing green beer is okay without having to visually witness the event. I’m calling it: UL will now approve single-staller bathrooms in bars.
The Getaway Pub’s bathroom emphasizes function over form with nondescript grayish paint and white tiles with dingy grout, complete with wet surfaces and trash that did not find its way to the trash can. This is more what I would expect in a bar bathroom — until I met the unexpected.
This was the first time I had to avoid making eye contact with myself as I used the toilet.
I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I just can’t come up with a reason for a full-length mirror to be installed in front of a toilet in a public bathroom. I mean, I can, but we don’t want to talk about that sort of thing.
I originally was planning on sharing with you a (very short) list of the benefits of having a toilet mirror, but, really, there aren’t any. Maybe this toilet mirror was hung because there is a hole in the wall behind it. Or maybe there’s some ugly graffiti. (I should have checked. I have failed you.) There is a perfectly good mirror above the sink in this bathroom if you need to look at yourself.
Whatever the reason is for having the toilet mirror, it isn’t good enough to keep it. I say the mirror needs to go. This could be the next big movement: Get the Toilet Mirror Out of The Getaway. Until that happens, this bathroom gets a 2.5/5 toilets.
Marissa Marangoni has been writing for the Devil Strip since 2015.