1. The one with something really gross in it
You walked into this shower early on and there was a huge bloodstain (or pile of nail clippings, or hairball, or other unpleasant substance that shall remain nameless) on the floor. Or really, not so much a stain as a smear. A truly worrying amount of blood, calling to mind the works of Christie and Doyle and that one time you stepped on a lizard when you were nine. You contemplated this shower for a minute and then backed out slowly in horrified silence. A few days later the bloodstain was gone (we tearfully salute you, janitorial staff), and since all the other showers were full, you were forced to use this one. You warily peeked in, tiptoeing in your shower shoes (we hope). And it was…fine. The water was hot, the pressure was okay, it should’ve been a decent experience, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about the bloodstain. It haunted you, globby red mirages appearing in every shadowed corner. You’ve showered there a dozen times now, but the memory lingers. That’s The Bloodstain Shower now, and no amount of hot water will wash away the stain it has left on the dimmest, grimiest corner of your mind. 3/5
2. The one with the really good water pressure
This one isn’t so much a shower as a religious experience. True, it’s badly lit, the tiles are grimy, and it broke in the first week and was running full blast for three days before some heroic, soggy maintenance staff member managed to turn it off. But none of that matters, because the water pressure is just that good. The water in this shower hits you with the force of a speeding semi when you’re jaywalking on Western. All your stress is immediately blasted off and washed straight down the somewhat dubious drain. It’s like getting a massage from a thousand angry babies. You now refuse to use any other shower and have, on occasion, lurked longingly in another stall for upwards of ten minutes waiting for the person using it to get out. 6/5
3. The one that’s, like, okay
This shower is just okay. Maybe the temperature system is a little weird and you had to initiate one of those awkward yelling conversations with someone in another stall to figure out how to use it. Maybe it’s warm enough, but the water dribbles halfheartedly out of the shower head and slowly saps your energy and will as you shift back and forth, trying in vain to fit both shoulders simultaneously under the weak, wobbly stream. But it’s, like, fine. You’d feel weird complaining. 4/5
4. The one that drips
Everyone on your floor has a sort of unspoken agreement not to use this shower, because it’s about two gallons away from breaking at all times and nobody wants to be the one to call maintenance. At the same time, the precariousness of that steady drip, drip appeals to you. Walking by, you’re always a little tempted. I wonder what would happen, you think. And even after you’ve turned away and the impulse is forgotten, the void keeps calling, quietly. Hungrily. Drip…drip…. 2/5
5. The tub shower
The existence of the tub shower has…implications. Implications we here at MCL don’t like to think about. The shower head is about four feet off the ground, which isn’t ideal in any context, but the tub beneath hints at bacchanalian aftermaths best hidden behind the kind of closed door that jams so that it won’t lock unless you really give it a good shove. If anyone has actually taken a bath in these tubs, you are a fascinating specimen of humanity and I really hope you’re up to date on your vaccinations. 1/5