It Sure Isn't Iowa

Last night, I thought I walked out of a cornfield.

My friends and I had gathered at a little hole-in-the-wall pub to say goodbye to a co-worker, but when the festivities wound down, we weren’t quite ready to call it an evening. We had heard rumors that there was a mysterious third floor where dreams came true, but we had our doubts. Kino and Swany were the first to take the dare and they came back changed men. Izzie, Chase, and I then decided to venture up to this unknown world, and when we beheld it with our very own eyes, we could have sworn we were in Heaven.

Before us lay a palace of sports fanaticism. Thirty-three televisions ringed the polished bar and seating area while three massive flat-screens filled the space up to the ceiling. Enormous sports tickers changed every second, providing information on schedules, scores, and probable odds of every team imaginable winning their respective championships. And no matter where we looked, we had a perfect view of whatever game our hearts desired.

The five of us were giddy. We had never before been in such a glorious venue to watch competition, and we actually pondered moving in permanently. The digs seemed suitable, and then Swany went to check out the bathrooms to see if we could seal the deal on our new favorite watering hole. When he had first returned from the third floor, he looked like he had just gotten a Red Rider BB Gun for Christmas, but when he emerged from the bathroom and announced, “There’s a 42-inch flat-screen above the urinals!”, you’d think he had found his nirvana.

Not being able to contain my feminist tendencies, I turned to Heaven's manager, Jack (name has been changed to protect the innocent), and asked him if there was also a flat-screen in the ladies' room. He stared at his shoes and shook his head. Izzie and I were shocked. I asked him where the ladies' room was, and he told me that I had to go down to the second floor. Who knew Heaven was so exclusive.

My blood was boiling. I had to see both for myself.

I grabbed Swany, Chase, and Kino and told them to make sure the bathroom was clear, and then asked them to guard the door as I snuck into the male inner sanctum. Once the coast was clear, I whipped open the door and stared at the beautiful television that spanned the length of four urinals. Being the owner of a small bladder, I consider myself a bathroom connoisseur, and this, by far, was one of the most fabulous.

Then I made my way to the ladies’ room one level down. No TV. No glitz. No glamour. Nothing special. I was appalled. The inequity made me want to go Title IX on them, but I refrained from showing too much emotion. I didn’t want to jeopardize Jack’s job, as he went on about how he had nothing to do with the design. I also didn’t want to ruin what was shaping up to be a beautiful evening of sports for all.

I plan on returning to this fine establishment, but I won’t return quietly… not until I too can live without the fear of missing a play when I have to make 37 trips to the bathroom after 3 beers.

I will add that it doesn’t make me feel better that Chase grudgingly admitted that the television in the men’s room is at a terrible angle, that it’s more like sitting in the first row of a move theater. It’s all about equal opportunity bathroom visits.

Special thanks to Swany who dared to bring a camera where no man has brought a camera before.