The washroom

The High-Security Washroom Chronicles

Bob adjusted his jacket and tapped the intercom button once again. “I think they’re running a background check on us, Jeff,” he said, peering at the camera mounted on the black security panel in front of Yorkville Village's exclusive washroom.

Jeff, dressed in his signature red hoodie and knit cap, chuckled as he leaned back against the padded wall. “Background check? They’re probably scanning our DNA through the intercom mic!”

The two friends had stumbled upon Yorkville Village during their latest urban photo walk. Their plan had been to capture the luxurious side of Toronto, but neither expected the washrooms to turn into their biggest adventure.

“This is the fanciest public bathroom I’ve ever seen. ‘Press intercom for access’? What is this, the CIA headquarters?” Bob muttered, adjusting his Sony a6000 camera strap.

Jeff rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “It’s Yorkville, man. Even their soap dispensers probably have a credit rating higher than mine.”

The intercom crackled to life. “Hello, welcome to Yorkville Village. Please state your business.”

Bob, ever the quick-witted one, leaned in. “Uh, nature calls. And we’re photographers. Also, my friend Jeff swears he’ll write a five-star review if the soap smells fancy.”

The voice paused for a moment before responding. “One moment, please.”

They exchanged a glance. “They’re probably cross-referencing us with Interpol,” Jeff joked.

Bob started snapping a few candid shots of Jeff against the textured wall while they waited. “Smile, you might end up in my blog as ‘The Man Who Waited for Soap.’”

Jeff rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. “Make sure to emphasize how rugged I look.”

Finally, a soft buzz indicated the doors were unlocked. They both stepped inside and were greeted by gleaming marble, touchless fixtures, and the faint aroma of lavender.

Bob looked around and let out a low whistle. “If this isn’t inspiration for a blog post, I don’t know what is.”

Jeff leaned into the mirror and pretended to strike a pose. “High-security washrooms: a tale of perseverance and cleanliness.”

They left the washroom with a newfound appreciation for luxury—and several hilarious photos to document their ordeal. As they walked away, Jeff turned to Bob.

“Next time, let’s find a washroom that doesn’t require an MI6 clearance, okay?”

Bob grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”