Shell at 5 Points

Before you read this, let's reflect on a simpler time in your life: your first apartment.

Excited about your new-found freedom from the dorm, or... WNBA forward who used to beat you, it was a time full glassy-eyed hope at the prospect of what was to come: the parties you'd throw, the movies you'd watch, the boasting about how your big deck faced a greenbelt.  Remember those days?

Then, remember how it all kind of blew up in your face?  You threw one party and spent the rest of the lease covering the damage, spending $400 to get your $200 deposit back; you watched one movie and forgot to return it; and that greenbelt your deck faced was really just a bunch of Hill Country brush where transients staked their tents and stashed their stolen goods.

And looking back, the lies all started with that one show unit they'd take you to when explaining floorplans.  The one that looked like Pier 1 landmine went off in it, where the master bedroom had that Queen bed they told you was a King, and - for some reason - always had that pirate's chest at the foot of it.

"Your floorplan looks exactly like this... but your kitchen's smaller, the freezer's broken, and your downstairs neighbor cooks heroin in a spoon, so you're gonna need some candles."

Remember the bathroom in that "Model Unit?"  That's EXACTLY what the Men's Room at the Shell at 5 Points reminded me of.  Exactly like that, only a little less "Model," which we'll get to in a second.

Tight quarters = angled photo.  Sorry.

I know: "I thought you said this thing was supposed to remind me of my first apartment?"  Well, okay, not the door.  The door itself looked like a professional, industrial-type bathroom, which is what you'd expect from a Shell service station.  My only beef here is that there's no way it's wheelchair accessible.  Just none.  The door's too heavy; unless that chair's got a clutch, NOS, and a brush guard, that poor dude's gonna need some help getting in.

Ooh!  Southwester motif!

Here's the model unit bathroom I was talking about.  This thing reeked of every apartment unit on 183 West of Mopac in Austin.  Yes, we're in San Antonio, and the only decor associated with our West Side is chalk outlines and pit bulls, but this isn't a college town, Austin is.  The Southwest Motif was huge in the Early 2000's, and believe me when I tell you the two-tone sandy brown and khaki offset tiles were everywhere.  Speaking of brown...

Here lies the space for a picture I didn't post (and, why I referred to this Men's Room as just a little less "Model").  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  As I said on the "Why" page, this blog is supposed to be somewhat family-friendly.  Yes, it's about Men's Rooms, and anytime you mix Men's Rooms with honesty, you get depravity, but I like to think we're all above that.

I also know that everyone still loves a good "ak," so if you look closely at the pic above, you'll get a taste (ew, sorry) GLIMPSE of the, uh, collateral damage.

Why?  Whywhywhywhywhy???

Again (though, not surprisingly here), there is absolutely no excuse to be this low on toilet paper.  None.  And this lack of TP doesn't just sneak up on you - it's a slow, steady process.  That means every bathroom check for the past two weeks has yielded nothing better than a glance at the box (designed to be see-through so you can tell you're running low) and a "Hmm.  Not yet."  Appalling.

"Hey, Jane?  This is Plain.  We should get together..."

Cleaner than its cousin to the left, the sink was, well, a sink  Nothing to report here other than the fact that the handle was loose.  Way loose.  You could pull it up to turn on the water, flick it with your middle finger, and watch it spin around.  You may see this as shoddy construction; I see it as a perk to an otherwise mundane hand washing session.  Another perk:

Awwwwwlriiiigggghhhttt...

THEY HAVE AN XLERATOR.  I LOVE these things.  Nothing does a finer job of drying hands and sloughing off old skin than the Xlerator.  Not quite as shiny as I've seen them before, I loved the matted finish - made it look more manly.  In case you've never used one of these, be prepared: they're loud, hands-free, and OHMYGOD cool.

Giddyup, Lightswitch

Before you go, you've got to check out the light switch cover.  Seriously.  Notice the sign above the commode?  It says, "Please be kind to flush and turn the light off.  Thank you, Management."  Why on God's Green Earth they'd ever use a switch plate like this is beyond me.  Look at that thing, and one of two things come to mind: either "Where's my lasso?" or that this was the switchplate above Grandma's address book that had the little tabs on the side and a lever to pop the book open at the first letter of the chosen last name.  (Sorry.  I miss my Tita.)

All in all, this Men's Room is - at best - a two pucker.  The convenience store at this Shell is okay, but with Starbucks and HEB right across the street, you'll probably find what they have to offer just a bit better.