The Tropicana Buffet was a place filled with loud families, running children and piles of food, so their bathrooms have their work cut out for them
It was a small two stall bathroom with one light barley glowing.
I opened the stall door and saw a trash can for all the personal feminine items and diapers, lots of diapers. But this wasn't just a normal trash can, it was record for every previous woman who was on her cycle before me.
It did not matter if the toilet was clean, the tp was full, even if the seat covers were not stocked, I wanted to throw up in the bucket, so gross.
Washing my hands wasn't a joy either, the counter was very wet from child after child, unsupervised by a parent, came in and decided to play sink water wars.
Even drying my hands was a hap hazardous adventure because of the rubber-band jerry rigging invented by a redneck third cousin.
Like everywhere else in the restaurant business, it was understaffed and all of the people are overworked and underpaid, no wonder the bathrooms were the last item on the cleaning or fix-it list. 5/10 was the best I could muster, especially because of the bucket trash can lying in wait.