From left, a place to hang your wrestling cape; urinals as big as showers.Photos: Melissa Hom
As Serge Becker prepares to lift the curtain on his Wild West saloon–cum–dinner theater, the Box, we thought we’d check in on his old joint, La Esquina. Sure, the subterranean cavern still gets its share of taco-nibbling waifs, but have the luchador-themed restrooms withstood the test of time, especially after Nacho Libre copped their look?
Concept: Like we said, Nacho Libre: Backlit luchadores posters (and wallpaper) brighten up dark-wood fixtures that look like they came from an Oaxacan monastery.
Privacy: The sliver of a men’s room has no lock, despite the uncomfortable proximity of the sarcophagus-like urinals — the oddest (and most impressive) this side of P.J. Clarke’s.
Amenities: In the two unisex rooms, dozens of TP rolls are shelved behind chicken wire. There’s a cape hook, throwback wooden sinks, an Oscar the Grouch–like trash can, and a can of Febreze spray.
Flaws: To secure the mammoth sliding doors of the individual WCs, it sometimes takes more strength than what we imagine a wispy model can muster; the latch rattles unnervingly when someone tries to get in.
Strategy: On the off chance there isn’t a line, use the restroom on the left, which is much larger than the one on the right.
Rating: — Daniel Maurer