Amidst a busy schedule of classes, work and exams, it’s hard to find time to sit back and relax. And it’s even harder to find the perfect place to do so. Here at DAZE, we know the number one time to relax — and not to mention rev up that thinking cap — is while you’re doing number two. And we’re experts! Our team of crack doologists rated some of the best (and worst) bathrooms on campus. We’ll tell you where you can find the cleanest digs, the softest paper and the strongest wireless signal. And let’s be real: if you don’t use your laptop on the john, there’s no better time to start.
Don’t underestimate the value of a casual, of-course-I-need-to-be-here stroll through the lobby of the Statler Hotel. Keep your eyes straight ahead as you march past high-rollin’ donors and spirit-sportin’ freshman parents: the Shangri-La of campus bathrooms awaits. Of course, the bathrooms in the Hotel School itself are nice and new, but the ones in the Hotel lobby are, dare we say it, trustee-clean. If your business demands a swank, brass-trimmed, muzak-laden atmosphere, this three-star jewel of the hotel school is the perfect place to get it done.
— S.B.D.
In this hustle and bustle between classes, I often forget to pick up The Sun on my way to the john — and no, not to wipe my ass with. Without proper reading material, time spent on the pot can be boring. But thanks in part to AAP and the University’s award-winning English department, many aspiring artists and poets have found inspiration while squatting and expressed themselves dutifully on the back of the first-floor Morill Hall men’s bathroom stall. Some musing includes: “Why burp and expel it? When you can fart and smell it!” My sentiments exactly.
When looking to take just a little more than a shit (gain some knowledge about the world), travel over to Morrill and pick up on the wisdom left behind from others before you.
— I. P. Daily
Every time I step to the sinks in the men’s bathroom at The Straight, I become filled with trepidation because I can never figure out how to turn on the water. There are no handles, so my initial instinct was that there was a sensor. Nope. I would wave my hands all over the place like a maniac, but the water would never turn on. The person next to me never had this problem, and I usually acted like my sink was broken. Each time I used that bathroom, I walked around with a horrible fear of someone having to shake my unwashed hand. It got to the point where I completely ignored that bathroom and would rather hold it in.
This year, though, I finally figured out that the sinks are controlled by foot pedals. It is my opinion that these bathrooms are responsible for the majority of unwashed hands around campus and therefore are the worst at Cornell.
— M.A.M.
Sibely Hall: home of Art, Architecture and Planning. Yet, the thoughtful reflection about these topics seems to disappear upon inspection of the first floor men’s bathroom — the one adjacent the gallery room. Opening the door leads directly to another door; portable walls construct a closet filled with janitorial tools; dust fills the air; paper towels are mounted too high; the toilet seat is too low; and the walls are too wide. Forget about the construction of a new Rem Koolhaas building, let’s start by re-doing the bathrooms already here.
— S.I.C.
Lincoln Hall’s third floor men’s bathroom is music to my ears. The large mirrors, spacious stalls and wide sinks sing joy into my heart. Never a spot on the tiles, nor a smudge on the mirrors, the bathroom is a heavenly shrine. The elongated seat is always clean and the lights are bright — a perfect space to sit, reflect, think and, for those music majors and professors, I presume, to compose. A haven within the music building, this bathroom is the type of place one imagines Beethoven to have made his glorious fifth movement.
— D.O.O.
If you’re still pooping downstairs in Olin, think again: The bathrooms in the back of the Kroch library are new-ish, clean and far less crowded than the disappointing offerings in the Olin basement. Plus the wireless reception is crystal clear. Try the handicapped stall for a more spacious workspace that’s perfect for catching up on the news, doing a term paper or just plain surfing the web. Of course, if you’re feeling more bookish, grab a week-old foreign newspaper from the basement browsing area and sneak into that handicapped one-person bathroom at the turn in the hallway. It’s the perfect place to get away from it all. In case you couldn’t tell, we like handicapped stalls. Why? As anyone can tell you, a true gourmet pooper needs room to roam.
— P.O.O.
If you’re overdue for a poo in Olin Hall, stop by the handicapped bathroom in the basement. With approximately 60 square feet of floor space, you know that there will be plenty of space to get ready for the main event. The janitorial staff keeps the bathroom in pristine condition, and fully loaded with TP, paper towels and soap. Be prepared, though, for 1930’s engineering: manual flush, manual soap, manual sink and manual door. Germ-phobic people need not apply. On the bright side though, it’s the only place in the Olin Hall basement where AT&T cell phones get reception. So chat away!
— U. Putoo
About that men’s bathroom on the second floor of RPCC … it’s nothing particularly bad, just unbelievably weird. I pushed the button to flush the toilet, and I don’t know — it must have gotten stuck or something. The water started swirling, but it just kept swirling and swirling and swirling and swirling and swirling! Oh, let’s not forget about the loud noises that kept going on. Completely baffled, I grasped for a plan. I started pushing the button to get it unstuck, but to no avail. I decided to make an exit and pretend nothing had happened, but as I began to open the door, the toilet finally completed its flush.
— W.A.C.