“Oh, the Places You’ll Go!”: Congress is in!

Man, this shit’s been gone for a minute, hasn’t it?

And I’m sorry; I’m sure there have been tons of you wandering and waddling the streets of America with so much Chipotle’ and 5-Guys in you that it’s been muy, muy uncomfortable.

Well, take heart: C.R.A.P. is back.

And this time it’s personal.

For those not in the nose, C.R.A.P. is The Kids running breakdown, shakedown, brown-down of places to poop.

Lawd a'mercy!

Destinations to dookie.

Shelters to shit.

Locales to log.

Each place has been butt-tested by yours truly, and then recorded back here for you to use with discretion.

Each place is rated on 4 categories: Cleanliness, Remoteness, Access, and Privacy.  Together they form the Voltron of criteria, C.R.A.P.

One day I’d like to Freaky Friday this jawn and get someone else’s full C.R.A.P. report (any takers?) on a place that I’ve already covered.

But in the meantime, you’re stuck with me. And this time I’m reviewing a restroom I used on my post-marital vacation.

The place: Congress Hall

The location: Cape May, NJ

The ass: mine.

Let’s do this.

The Kids Don’t Get It Presents: Filibustering the Bowl at Congress Hall

Congress Hall is the lush, stately hotel located in the heart of Cape May, NJ–a Jersey shore town home to old people, advanced age people, geriatrics and the dead. It’s a quiet, idyllic place that boldly stands out amongst the other hotels that offer only unclean swimming pools, H1N1 burgers, guests with ill-fitting t-shirts and pubes in the sink. Congress Hall is a sprawling, yellow mansion with about a gazillion rooms in it. Imagine the hotel that ‘The Shining’ took place in, only with sand and adult diapers.

During our stay last September, one of the few times we ventured out of the room I found myself in need to do the deed. And so, while eating at the hotel restaurant, I excused myself to the restroom.

Oh; it should be noted that Congress Hall was originally a plantation home.

Valet drivers waiting to park it for you!

Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to shit all over this place.

This is my review.

Cleanliness: If you’re like me, you’re probably wondering, “How clean can a place be when its history is steeped in slavery?”–this is a similar question that I ask myself when I’m watching BET, too. Anyway, the restroom at CH was decidedly of a mixed-bag sort of fair. I mean, first of all, the bathroom is located on the basement floor, something I never care for.

Me at Congress Hall: Pardon me, but could you direct me to the bathro–

Congress Hall Restaurant Hostess: –what are you doing here on the main floor? Didn’t I tell you to finish toothbrush cleaning Room 247? Did you lose your toothbrush again, boy? If so, it’s coming out of your pay, which is in toothbrushes.

Me at Congress Hall: No, I’m a guest here. I need to use the bathroom. Where is it?

Congress Hall Restaurant Hostess: My apologies ‘sir’. Why don’t you merely soil yourself like the rest of our patrons here at Congress Hall? That way, while you’re napping at your dining table, a Congress Hall staffer can come around and cleanse your soiled britches

When they woke up, they invited us to the key party in their room

with a gentle toothbrush-scrub. The circular motions applied to your taint will gradually awaken you from your slumber. Unless you’re dead. Which happens sometimes here. Or, you may use the bathroom downstairs in the basement.

(End scene)

And so, while I considered shitting on myself at my table, I ventured to the basement of Congress Hall to the bathroom. Once there, the stalls were decidedly drenched in that “damp, wet” look….you know, lots of wet sinks and dark-paneled stalls. The stalls were

Poster on Congress Hall bathroom stall

actually pretty clean–I mean, I still used an ass-bib, but I didn’t feel compelled to double ply the seat with it. Though at the same time, the stall that I chose had a floaty adrift in it, still wildly bobbing its head like it was riding the electric bull.

At the sinks, little pools of water were everywhere, and the faucet handles seemed to be constantly wet. But the mirrors were clean, though if you looked up in them while washing, you saw the spectres of slaves past standing behind you. +6 (I mean, of course it’s clean–they have servants!)

Remoteness: As previously mentioned, the bathrooms are located at the bottom level, weirdly located next to the Congress Hall Club called….’The Club’ or ‘The Room’–agh, it was something lame and flaccid like that. Anyway, the basement level is unsurprisingly dark and dank. But what made it stand out were worn-out signs that said things like, “tHiS wAy 2 FrEeDom” and “Undgrd RR sTarTs heRe” . Odd. What I liked about it was that descending the dark stairs made me feel more like Batman instead of say, Harriet Tubman. Plus, with it being the same locale as the club ‘The Club’, no one knows whether you’re going down to boogie or boogie-ing on down to get brown. Congress is in! Cut-off, which is good, but loses points for oppression. +4

Discreetly slipped to me by someone in housekeeping.

Access: Getting into the bathrooms was easy (turn left at the bottom for the shitter; turn right/go straight for shitty music and sand-blasted middle-aged NJers dancing to Buffet and Gaga). The only drawback? Since it’s so dark down there, you’re liable to step on a ‘sleeping’ old person or two here and there. As soon as I showed them my freedom papers, it was smooth sailing! +8

Privacy: Crispus Attucks was it quiet down there! Like a tomb, really. Even with the steady throb of “Poker Face” in the background, the bathrooms were quiet enough to hear a slave pin drop. The stalls had doors that, while not floor-length, were certainly low enough to feel enclosed or to discourage “uppity” house servants from scampering away from work. Says toilet: “….nobody knows the trouble I see…”, so go ahead and porkbarrel that sucker. +6

Final C.R.A.P. score: 24 points

There you have it, folks. The Congress Hall earns a respectable 24 points for its unique blend of deep-set isolation, Gaga music and Harriet Tubman wall carvings. Sadly, we’re making a slight change to the score, so:

Final C.R.A.P. score: 24 points

is now

Final C.R.A.P. score: 4 points

You know, for reparations.

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2 Comments

Filed under C.R.A.P.

2 responses to ““Oh, the Places You’ll Go!”: Congress is in!

  1. Oh dear, just slammed head first into this site and sir… I commend you.

    You are now a must read.

  2. "Queen"

    Boy!! You are STUPID!!!! I’m over here CRYIN’!!! You would think I’d be immune to it since we were raised in the same house, but, sadly, I am not…LMFAO!!!

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