The Loo Review

I was at this porn palace in order to see a very avant garde series of one act plays being put on by Zoetrope, Francis Ford Coppolla’s literary magazine. I tell you this because I don’t want anyone thinking that this site is written by the sorts of persons who are so secure in their intellectual, professional, heterosexual identities that they go visit strip clubs and then tell everyone about it under the guise of it being an ‘experience worth deconstructing’ or any such drivel. I don’t care to participate in the intellectual, professional, heterosexual co-opting of seamy things, no I don’t.

There was no sex at all going on at the Show World I visited; it was, as I say, a series of completely sexless one act plays I came for. Well, the plays weren’t completely sexless- the 5 I saw were all about how relationships between people who love each other (or should) get screwed up, by convention and its bearing down on the interaction of two individuals, by preconceived ideas about how two men in a bar should begin to relate, by a narrator who speaks out loud the story he’s imagining is the life of two people eating brunch. They may have dealt with issues of sex and sexuality, but there was no actual nudity on stage the night of my visit to Show World. Well, there was one suggestion of nudity, and the beginning of sex, but nothing lewd occurred, anyhow. Let’s put it this way: no one got turned on by what was on stage. Bit of a shame about that, though the plays were actually quite good. And the theater itself was sort of neat, too. It was red and black with art deco-y patterns made of pieces of mirrors all over the walls and ceiling. Those I was there with (no, I don’t make a habit of going to porn shops on 8th Ave and 42nd Street alone, thank you very much) and I enjoyed the looks of the place for some time, which is really neither here nor there since this is a site about toilets, not about porn decor.

So let me get back to what I was meant to be writing about: the toilets of Show World, which I have to say, aren’t great. There wasn’t enough toilet paper (luckily I had some tissues in my bag), the hand drier didn’t work, the soap was a bit watery and not so nice smelling, and there was an unidentified liquid surrounding the base of the toilet which I’m afraid I may accidentally have splashed on my leg.

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 28th, 2001 at 4:39 am and is filed under New York. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.