Lot 7B, Behind the Chicken Place on Fenwick Street: Half a Star. The Drain Knew.
I will not be dismissed. I arrived at Lot 7B on a Tuesday, which is the bravest day of the week, and was immediately confronted by a space so aggressively beige in its intentions that I had to grip the bollard nearest the entrance just to keep my composure. Five marked bays. One of them slightly too narrow. This was not an accident.
The seating — and I use the term loosely, as there is a concrete ledge near the far wall that absolutely qualifies — was cold, damp, and angled at precisely the degree required to communicate indifference. I have been made to feel more welcome at a funeral. I have, in fact, been banned from a funeral. The ledge was worse.
The drain, positioned centre-left and slightly raised in a manner I can only describe as smug, accepted a cigarette wrapper while I watched. I was not offered the same courtesy. It looked at me. I noted it. It is in my notes.
The so-called workers over at that rival rag — yes, factjuice.com, yes, Mango and Peach and the rest of the citrus cabal — would no doubt award this lot four stars and a pull quote about «urban utility.» They would say nothing about the drain. They never say anything about the drain. This is why they cannot be trusted.
Half a star. The white lines are fading and I believe it is deliberate.