Barnes & Noble at 410 and San Pedro

THIS is the place that beat out Borders??  THIS??

What was Borders doing?  Running guns to some revolutionary group?  Buying all their books at Amazon? What?  

Borders was AWESOME.  They had great coffee, great knickknacks and kid's games to buy on your way to the registers, and a staff that walked around with all those cool headsets.  And music selection: not even the same ballpark.  You could find Moby's B-Sides at Borders; go into Barnes & Noble, and you'll find Moby Dick on tape.  

They should just call the Barnes & Noble of 410 and San Pedro 'Barnes,' because there ain't nothin' 'Noble' about it.

Wheelchair accessible... if you've got a third arm.

Here's the Men's Room door.  Looks unassuming enough, doesn't it?  But if you look closer - between the knob and the kickplate - it appears someone has keyed it.  No other logical explanation for such a series of scratches that look like Arabic.  Probably a warning.  "Do Not Enter."

An exercise in perspective from a 3rd Grade Art Class.

Your first view: it already seems like they're hiding something.  Closed (out of line) faux green marble doors and a half-wall to block your entrance.  Homey, no?  God forbid someone be coming out when you're going in.  Nothing like doing that "Excuse Me" dance while wondering if the dude's washed his hands and zipped his pants... assuming he's wearing pants.  Yeesh.   

What about Gullliver?

Barnes' urinals are, well, interesting.  That one on the left is low, but that one on the right is Lilliputian.  There's no way the average person can use that and not suffer some sort of socially debilitating consequence.  "Hey, man: you step in a puddle?"  "Shut up and let's get out of here."

Solitary.

Frills be damned.  A trip in here, and you'd better have your 'Words with Friends' ready, because this could be the loneliest, saddest stall I've ever seen.  Nearly to scale in the photo, the Muzak echoed in here; it was like going in an elevator.  And that's not someone lending out toilet paper over on the left there.  Nope.

Men's Room Apocolypse.

It's this.  I don't know WHAT happened before I came in here, but it looks like someone tried to change Baby Jack Jack.  Look at this place!  I've seen cells after prison riots (in movies only, Mom) that looked cleaner than this!  This is an outrage!  Men deserve better!  Cook, where's my hasenpfeffer?

"Hey!  You look just like me?"  "Really?  I was just thinking that."

Sinks.  Meh.

Don't ever reach to push down trash in a public bathroom, kids.

The trash cans: not so "Meh."  Without a hand-blower in sight, you were relegated to using paper towels.  I don't mind paper towels (prefer them, actually), but if you're going to make me use them... GIVE ME SOME ROOM TO PULL THEM OUT!!!  I don't want to wash my hands, and then soil my knuckles on someone else's garbage!  "Well, what about the second trash can?"  Does it even matter?  I can't keep my hands clean when I dry them; it wouldn't matter if they had an incinerator right next to it!

So, yeah.  You're better served going elsewhere for your pit stop than this Men's Room at Barnes & Noble.  While they do label themselves as 'Booksellers,' they seem to be 'Sell-outters' (don't Google that) when it comes to their Men's Room upkeep.

Two pucks, and it's all the way to the back on your left when you walk in.  Have fun on THAT hike.