I followed his instructions, and found myself here:
They directed me to the line:
And so I pushed my way back to the dining room.
Now, here was the situation: the Ladies' Room had a line at least a dozen deep.
Tom did so, but when I entered the Men's Room I saw to my dismay that this bathroom had two urinals but no commode. (Which I guess explained why there were guys in line at the Ladies' Room).
As I was returning to my table the young bartender shouted at me, eyes shooting angry flaming daggers, "I told you, yours is in the other room! What's the matter, can't you hear?!"
To which I shouted right back, "Yes, I can hear, you young whippersnapper! But there's a line 15 deep at the Ladies' Room and nobody in the Men's, so what the heck difference would it have made for me to use this bathroom if you'd have had the common decency to put a toilet in there out of consideration for all these paying customers? And further more, whoever owns this bar and restaurant should be ashamed of themselves for being too stingy to even put in enough bathrooms for all the people who crowd into this place and pour their money into it, and I wonder what the Health Inspector would think if I dropped them a line about all the people jammed into that bar without even acceptable facilities?!"
That's exactly what I said to that kid. In my head.
In reality I said nada. Instead I whipped out my camera,
Tom, in a feat quick thinking, said to the server, "My wife is a blogger. She travels around and writes about restaurants."
The server, who'd surely heard my public bathroom-shaming along with the rest of the restaurant, got a look of horror on her face. "Oh my God," she cried, "I hope you're not gonna write something bad about us!"
You think? Thought I.
I will say, to her credit, that for the rest of the night you never saw such a solicitous server to our table in a such a crowded restaurant.
As for the food?
OMG, it was the best.
Anyway, we did have a nice walk back to our hotel through the theater district.