The residents of a luxury apartment complex in Brighton Beach may soon have their sweeping ocean views replaced by slightly less scenic high-rise toilets. Is the difference between the sound of the tide and the flushing of a toilet really that great? Is the reflection of the morning sun any less majestic when it radiates not from the surface of the sea, but the toilet's prefabricated stainless-steel rooftop?
The residents of Oceana Condominium and Club (!), which boasts "private beach access" and "spectacular ocean views," are complaining that the proposed $2.5 million elevated restroom will not only destroy their view of the water, but will also somehow blot out all of the earth's sunlight, casting an eternal toilet shadow over their homes that will result in eternal toilet winter. The travails will be documented in a forthcoming novel called "The Toilet Road."
"There won't be any sun in the apartments that face the…toilet," resident Dmitry Geyber told the Wall Street Journal. If the total loss of sunlight from the toilet—placed on 25-foot tall stilts for more effective weather-proofing—isn't enough, the ensuring sounds will be. "You will basically be able to hear people do their thing," he confidently predicted.
Instead, residents have proposed that the toilet be moved around 20 yards down the beach to the front of the Shorefront YM-YWHA, a suggestion that has stoked the ire of egalitarians keen on de Blasio's "tale of two cities" rhetoric. Why should the toilet—currently partially constructed—be moved at the behest of the wealthy? Despite carping from Oceana residents, Mayor Bloomberg was intent on keeping the restroom in its original location. But the city has since extended public comment to May 5th, opening the door for the possibility that Brooklyn's Sybarites might, in fact, get their way. Not everyone is pleased by the potential compromise.
"This is absolutely outrageous," Brighton Beach resident Ida Sanoff told the paper, adding that fellow residents have been discussing the location of the restroom as though it were a nuclear reactor. "We're talking about a toilet here," she said.
The original, ground-dwelling restroom that sat underneath the boardwalk was destroyed during Hurricane Sandy. Thirty-five other such elevated structures—serving as everything from restrooms to offices to lifeguard stations—have been placed on city beaches in recent years.
Eileen Trota said her brother, who has limited vision, will no longer be able to see his cherished sunsets—just a toilet, she told the Times. “He sees limited, and he will have nothing,” she said.
The only other solution is what we'll refer to as "The Mrs. Mantsey Plan," the titular character from the classic Edith Wharton story in which an old woman attempts to set fire to her neighbor's unsightly new extension. It doesn't work, and Mrs. Mantsey dies of pneumonia, acquired while crawling around in the shrubbery before committing the arson. Public comment it is! Barring successful protest, the new station is scheduled to open on May 24th.
