It’s been emotional; High Street Public

The High Street locale has mixed memories for me; I did buy a pretty sweet MoneyShot hoody there back in 2001. It was a good hoody.

During art school, I wiled away a few years of my questionably tasteless youth working weekends in a scody mental bar positioned between Queen and High Streets.  The odd mix of shops, cafes, proximity to galleries and public transportation made it a good option during my so arty/heaps of black/pink hair/NuMetal phase. Ahh Good times (shudder).

Unlike many shopping districts, High Street has retained it’s public toilet, a well positioned set of two bathrooms right beside a parking building. Handy if you’ve been stuck in ball-breaking traffic or need to pee before the long drive home.

Exterior doors, High Street public toilet

Look at my awesome MSPaint work here! This loo is located near the southern end of High Street, near the intersection of of Victoria Street East.

Map showing High Street public toilets

In spite of a great position, swanky-area council money and some effort to do them up, somehow these loos are still a target for nefarious yuckness.

A few years back, I was attending a professional development thing (a course on photographic identification, which is far cooler than it sounds, if you like photos and the chemistry/science stuff that goes with them) at the city library. I went for a walk during my lunch break and found myself in dire need of a wee. “Aha!” I thought “I know where there is a public toilet!” and I made my way to the corner of Victoria Street East and on to the refurbished public toilets beside some upmarket boutiques and a row of nice swanky cafes.

The sign said vacant so I pushed the door, only to be greeted by a lifeless body sprawled on the floor of the stall. I freaked out and ran in the other direction. Now, I realise I should have called the police or let someone know, but I didn’t. Instead I walked quickly back to the library and freak the fuck out for the rest of the afternoon.  Over the next few days there were no reports of bodies found in and around the city so I can only imagine the man had passed out on the floor only to wake hours later with tile marks across his cheek. The guilt is still with me, as is the realisation that I am a total coward when faced with a possible dead body. I can only hope I would act better next time.

The day I took these photos, standing on the street in front of the toilet, I saw a second, slightly less harrowing but still pretty grim incident.

High Street looking north

I snapped off a couple of pics while waiting for a loo to become vacant, a pretty normal start to a review. Taking a look around, I didn’t feel as thought I were taking my life in my hands. It’s all cafes, Audis and expensive footwear shops.

High Street looking south

When the vacant sign final turned, the door opened and a young guy walked out, grinning. Through the crack left in the door I could see a group of maybe 6 other dudes, all of an *ahem* questionable appearance. The grinning guy ran across the street, only to quickly return, still grinning. A secret knock, and he was readmitted into the tangy smelling grey mist which continued to stream from the bright yellow louvres.  Perhaps smoke signals to spell out ‘stay the fuck away’?. They didn’t look like they were coming out any time soon and even if I felt like waiting, I fear I’d get a contact high from wiping myself with the provided loo paper thus contracting meth vag.

High Street public toilets have freaked me out one too many times so I never got the chance to rate or photograph the insides. This will have to do, a cautionary tale with the final suggestion to cross your legs and hold on until you get to the Art gallery or library just up the road,less chance of meth vag there.

 

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