Valero on 8200 Broadway

How do I describe this Men's Room at the Valero on the 8200 block of Broadway?  Hmm...

You ever been to prison?  Me neither, but I imagine a pit stop in Huntsville isn't much different than a pit stop at this Valero.

Look: I love Valero.  They fuel me with their Cibilo Mountain Coffee and two packs of peanuts for $2.19, and they fuel my car with some of the lowest gas prices in the city (remember when $5 used to get you nearly a quarter of a tank?).  And not once have I been to one - even in the seediest parts of town - and not gotten at least fair service.  Even the guy funding his college from behind the bullet-proof glass who has to wench that steel door out to take my money has a smile on his face.

That said, the Men's Room at this Valero was terrifying.  Clean, but terrifying.

The Portal

Here's the door.  Looks unassuming enough, doesn't it?  Unisex sign (please: only men go into these), no graffiti... but then you notice that it's between the $40,000 cooler and a cinderblock wall / fallout shelter.  "It's a bathroom," you figure.  "How bad could it be?"

The Chute

Annnnnd here it is.  All the conveniences of the modern Men's Room tucked into the same space allotted for Bud Lights, wine coolers, and - for some reason - cases upon cases of Yellowtail Chardonnay.

Oh: and this picture is almost - ALMOST - to scale.

Hey!  Howyadoin', Hand Station?

It looks like a drunk took this picture, but the wall wasn't far enough back from the towel dispenser to take a picture without my reflection being exposed to the world (okay, the three people who read this site), and anonymity is key.  But hey: there was plenty of paper towels, the hand-dryer worked, and the trash can right below was not overflowing; what more could I expect?

Hey!  Howyadoin', Sink?

Don't let this break your hip when you first walk in because it's RIGHT there.  It's literally door.  Sink.  Aesthetic-wise, however, it was clean and the water got hot, so it served its purpose.  Yes, the caulk was cracked, but it wasn't leaking.  Plus, a tight bathroom in SAN ANTONIO?  What were they thinking?  Of COURSE some drunk taco eater is gonna waddle through there after a bender; I'm surprised this sink was on the wall at all.

Hey!  Howyadoin', TP Holder?

Inexplicably and inexcusably, they were down to crunch time on their toilet paper.  Another pet peeve: it's single-ply, so it's only half as much as it appears to be.  Who do they think they're fooling?  And it's allergy season - to blow your nose into single-ply means you've got to pull at least a yard of tissue from the container so you can fold it over five or six times.  We're in San Antonio: home of Tex-Mex and Allergies; people simply need to keep more toilet paper on hand!

Hey!  Howyadoin, Exit Door?

This is your view from the commode.  Scenic, isn't it?  I've seen racquetball courts with more contrast!  Some paint for the door, a poster for cigarettes... something - ANYTHING - to make this place more welcoming. The maintenance schedule on the door was pointless; what kind of maintenance are they doing without checking toilet paper?   They just open the door, peek in, and go, "Welp!  No dead people!  Three-o'clock check: done."

So there it is: the Men's Room at Valero on the 8200 block of Broadway.  It's diminutive, white, and... uh... had working plumbing, but not at all a place you want to go do your business.

Two pucks out of five: it's clean, but being in there is like being buried alive.  Number ones only, please.