NJ Turnpike: Travel plaza restroom goes Victorian with Pears’ soap

We went on a road trip to D.C. for Halloween, the weekend before Hurricane Sandy blew in. We were nervous wrecks driving home, with some early rainstorms thundering across I-95. The subway lines had shut down by the time we got back to NYC, but the Fine Fare grocery store across the street was still open, so I bought a ton of last-minute soy milk to make caramel mocha lattes for the next two weeks when I had to work from home, following Sandy’s wrath. But I digress. On that Friday evening, all was well, and K, Everswell, Everswell’s little brother and I were barreling down the NJ Turnpike, giggling about stupid things like brown chickens, brown cows and a mesmerizing kaleidoscope app on my Kindle Fire.

We stopped at one of the generic turnpike travel plazas — Thomas Edison? Molly Pitcher? Vince Lombardi? — to grab dinner. Typical of rest area restrooms, this one wasn’t fancy. Giant “MEN” and “WOMEN” signs pointed you in the right direction, which is a great idea, considering that’s what most people are looking to do in a rest area. The restroom, less enormous than the sign, was clean and had mismatched tile work; earth tone tiles covered the floor, but the wall tiles were a bolder, more retro blue and navy. My favorite part was a vintage ad for Pears’ soap in the entrance, right next to 75-cent machines for finger puppets (I guess in 2013 you can not longer call those “quarter machines”). This was quite the classy and unexpected Victorian touch, and quite meaningful to me. My great-great aunt had a framed Pears’ soap ad in her bathroom, and I think it eventually made its way into my grandmother’s bathroom — I wonder where it is now?

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]