Yay capitalism!

A few days before I flew home for Christmas, a friend of mine named Chrysta came to the city for the day. Chrysta lived next door to me in the dorm junior year at Cate, and she was probably the first real friend I made there. Now she goes to Tuck business school and had some time off, and since it was just a short train ride for her she headed down to spend the afternoon and the evening with me. After hanging out at Dave's bar for a while, we headed to Times Square to do a bit of shopping. Struck, as I often am, by the blast of neon that hits you as you near Times Square, I brought up marketing and we spent a few minutes talking about advertising. New York doesn't stop at billboards, fliers, or commercials. There are whole stores in Times Square dedicated to promoting a particular product. You can buy a souvenir box of M&Ms at the M&M Store for three or four times the price you'd find them at an 7-Eleven on the same block. (Also for sale there are stuffed M&Ms, M&M t-shirts and tote bags, M&M key chains, stationery, blankets... You get the idea. I feel a blend of pity and revulsion for the people I see riding the subway or walking around the city clutching their M&M bags.) I mentioned that I had heard about a Pop Tart store that had opened recently, and minutes later we happened to walk past it. Naturally, we had to go in.

There were tons of things with the Pop Tart logo and pictures of various Pop Tart flavors, as expected, but what I really wanted to see was the food counter. Instead of simply selling regular Pop Tarts, the store sells all kinds of culinary creations made from Pop Tarts. There were sandwiches, sundaes, and stuff I didn't want to get too close to. (This reminded me a of a White Castle cookbook - really - that I saw in Tennessee once. It was full of recipes you could concoct using White Castle products. Memorable was some sort of casserole, the bottom layer of which was a layer of White Castle burgers.)

Pop Tart "sushi," wrapped in some sort of sugary gelatinous stuff.

While there, I made two decisions: 1) I was not going to purchase a snack, and 2) I wanted to stop by the bathroom. A Pop Tart employee wearing a Pop Tart t-shirt and Pop Tart visor informed us, however, that their bathroom was closed. She suggested that we go to the Charmin store, which was right next to the Pop Tart store. Morbidly fascinated (and needing to pee), I led Chrysta out of Pop Tart Land and into an experience unlike any I've ever had.

The Charmin store was a party. There were flashing lights and various upbeat Charmin jingles blasting from speakers. Tourists posed by giant toilets decorated to look like thrones. There were free hot chocolate and boxes of Puffs available. "From a marketing perspective, I find this fascinating," said Chrysta, and headed off to look around while I got in line. Instead of being tucked away on the periphery, like all bathrooms in all public establishments, you probably guessed that these facilities were center stage. There were about 15 doors, each bearing the name of a different state and decorated with cartoon-y pictures of local flora and fauna. The line was about 8 people deep, but it moved fast. And to pass the time, there was (I swear I'm not making this up) a guy in his early 20's with a microphone interviewing the person at the front of the line about where they were from and which of the three types of toilet paper - Charmin Sensitive, Charmin Ultra-Strong, or Charmin Extra Soft - they planned to use. Then a door would open emitting a relieved-looking patron and the emcee would say something like, "Okaaaaay, Tina! You're headed off to beautiful Mooooontana! Hope everything comes out alright for you!" Poor guy probably starred in his high school production of "Damn Yankees" and moved to New York thinking he'd make it big... When it was my turn, I told him I thought that asking about my toilet paper choice was a rather personal question before he shuttled me off to Alaska. A bathroom attendant preceded me in to spray and wipe.


I have to say, it was one of the cleaner public bathrooms I've visited, and I was in no danger of running out of toilet paper. I am not going to reveal which of the rolls I selected.

Duty done, I collected Chrysta who was gazing at a pyramid of toilet paper rolls with a mixture of horror and fascination on her face, and fled.