Mens Room, Ingles, Marshall Bypass, 2014
So, I stopped at Ingles the other day, needing a few groceries and needing to pee, not an unusual combination of needs for me. There is something at Ingles that seems to cause my bladder to relax. Let's just say I'm familiar with the mens room.
Imagine my surprise and joy when I entered the hallowed chamber and was greeted by a colorful and warming bouquet of fresh flowers. My bladder loved it and, at my age, having a happy bladder is both welcoming and occasionally vital. They offered a sweet fragrance and an unsaid message that said, "We value you and want your stay at our store to be cheerful and bright."
Now, I've never known the Ingles mens room, even at the old Ingles across the street, to be exceptionally nasty or repulsive. I've been in some bad mens rooms in my day - a memory from a bus station in Mexico comes to mind - and Ingles has always been better than that. An unflushed toilet here, an overflowing waste can there, but nothing truly egregious. Rather, I would have described them as utilitarian, drab, dark, not places you necessarily want to linger.
But flowers, man, over the top. I envision men meeting there to chat over coffee, admiring the surroundings, combing their hair and checking their smile. Who would've thunk it. Certainly, not me.