Photo by Alan Zilberman.
By DCist Contributor Alan Zilberman
*Editor’s note: This is a special edition of Dear John in honor of International Toilet Day.
In the early days of D.C. food trucks, back before annoying regulations and endless overpriced falafel, El Floridano was my favorite. Chef Stephan Boillon would make unique sandwiches on perfect baguettes, and—dammit—now I’m hungry just thinking about them. His truck was a success, so with the help of a Kickstarter, Boillon was able to launch his restaurant/bar Mothership, which is located near Petworth. It’s no surprise that the bathroom at Mothership has the same thoughtfulness as the food truck, with simple flourishes that make the place feel, well, like home.
+4 for a sliding bolt: Longtime readers of this column know that simple locks on door knobs just don’t cut it for me. They do not inspire confidence, which is a problem when it’s time for, uh, peak bathroom performance. Although the door at Mothership requires a minor adjustment so that the bolt will function, it works well enough so I know I can relieve myself in peace.
-1 for short supply: There are two single-serving bathrooms in Mothership. It’s a small space, so I can’t really ding them too hard for that one. The facilities violate my imaginary patrons-to-toilet ratio, but just barely.
+6 for overall thoughtfulness: Boillon clearly wants his customers to relieve themselves in comfort. The bathroom in Mothership is handicap accessible. There are THREE back-up rolls of toilet paper. There are incense, plus an air freshener with a fragrance called “Hawaii.” I, for one, like the implied social contract that the spray bottle implies: the bathroom should smell better than when you left. Also, the mere existence of these details suggest that we’re encouraged to take a dump here.
-1 for a missed soundtrack opportunity: One of the more interesting decorations at Mothership is a stack of CDs. The CD labels create some excellent reading material—I liked the Toots and the Maytals CD,plus there’s one with the handwritten label “Punk/Hardcore”—but then I felt pangs of regret that I couldn’t listen to said music while I was using the bathroom. Such a waste. In fact, I suggest you click on that Toots link and read the rest of this column while listening to it. Your experience will improve, I assure you.
+3 for discreet trashcan marked “Lady things”: I’m not the intended user of this trash can, for obvious reasons, but I can appreciate the mix of discretion and tasteful humor here. I only wish the bathroom had similar signage for the toilet like, “Pee, poop, and toilet paper.”
+2 for manual paper towel dispenser: Automatic hand sensors are a plague on humanity, and the paper towel situation at Mothership demonstrate a clear respect for its customers. Sure, there’s no Dyson Air Blade, but I should learn not to expect that option every time I need the facilities. This option is totally adequate, even serviceable, and everything else about the place is already a stunning success.
Overall score: +13. I’m too lazy to read my earlier columns, but I’m pretty sure I found my new favorite bathroom in DC. Go to Mothership, you guys, because their bathroom is a delight. Oh, and the food is damn good, too.
