Report from the street... er, the bathroom
Have you ever entered a restaurant or bar and wondered how classy it really is? Do the prices of items seem excessive for the quality of service you are receiving? The waiters a tad snooty? The portions small, yet low class?
There is one clear way to determine exactly where the place you are at fits into the hierarchy - the ladie's restroom. Nice places offer an oasis to women. Not merely a place to pee or puke, but a place to laugh, cry, and examine one's life, and men, with compatriots. I'm not just talking about couches either. They offer the means to rebeautify oneself. Perfume. Hairspray. Hair dryers and curling irons. Ladies-time-of-the-month products and condoms are not only free - they are gracefully presented in chic containers.
Run of the mill and low end venues also offer up tampons and condoms, but they come at a price in machines such as the one I found in a restaurant/nightclub in Birmingham today. The beauty of these machines is that they frequently can be persuaded to give up their precious cargo without coin payment. I've never jimmied one myself, of course, nor do I know anyone who has. There have been times of emergency, however, when the machine wouldn't accept my humble quarter, yet would still give me what I needed.
But there was something else in that W/C in Birminham today - something truly revolutionary. You see, girls who can't afford to hang out in clubs where the door fee is $20 and the drinks are over $10 each sometimes need to freshen their hair too. Until now, we've been forced to work with a bit of water on our hands, hoping against hope that it will fight the valant fight against bad hair. Wishing for a flat iron - that ultimate tool against frizzies.
Socialism has raised it's head, dear reader. I'm certain this machine's creators believe they are working in the battle for commercialism, but as I mentioned above, bathroom vending machines have Robin Hood tendancies. I present to you: the flat iron vending machine:
