5/5 René G. 6 years ago on Google • 131 reviews
The
decoration
in
this
bar
is
incredibly
busy
and
inspired,
and
the
perfect
backdrop
for
the
open-mic
nights
they
have
regularly.
Drinks
are
cheap
and
varied,
the
bartender
is
friendly
and
cocktails
are
inventive.
As
is
often
the
case
in
Paris,
the
Culture
Rapide
toilets
are
in
the
basement.
To
reach
them
you
have
to
wind
down
a
spiral
staircase
of
such
frightening
narrowness
that
only
one
person
can
occupy
it
at
any
time,
i.e.
there’s
room
for
either
a
person
going
up
or
a
person
coming
down.
As
the
person
at
the
top
can
see
the
person
coming
up
better
than
the
person
coming
up
can
see
the
person
going
down,
courtesy
has
it
that
the
person
coming
down
will
wait
for
the
person
coming
up
to
pass
before
engaging
descent.
It’s
an
inverse
snipper
situation:
in
this
case
socially
advantageous
to
the
person
coming
up,
who
proceeds
from
a
tactically
inferior
position
of
lower
ground
and
therefore
collects
more
value
from
the
unwritten
protocol
of
who
gets
to
use
the
staircase.
The
irony
is
that
the
person
going
down
generally
has
a
more
pressing
urge
to
get
to
the
toilet
than
the
person
coming
up
who
has
already
relieved
him/herself.
The
staircase
railing
is
brightly
painted
in
craft
style
and
the
preceding
wait
tends
to
transform
the
descent
into
an
experience
it
wouldn’t
otherwise
have
been
(this
is
what
economists
refer
to
as
the
anchoring
effect).
The
narrowness
of
the
staircase
structures
the
descent
into
a
screw-like
movement:
you
turn
more
than
you
descend,
fabricating
an
illusion
that
you
are
not
being
carried
down
by
gravity
but
are
actively
pushing
up
the
whole
rest
of
the
establishment
and
pulling
the
toilet
space
toward
yourself.
When
you
reach
the
bottom,
a
new
social
enigma
is
presented:
the
men
have
a
urination
stall
whereas
the
women
line
up
for
a
closed
stall.
The
urination
stall
is
in
full
view
of
the
lineup
for
the
closed
stall,
which
transforms
the
urination
process
into
a
kind
of
performance
reserved
for
men.
Given
that
Culture
Rapide
is
a
performance
setting,
frequently
hosting
slam
poetry
and
open
mic
events,
it’s
difficult
not
to
rise
to
the
performance
challenge,
even
if
this
means
acting
out
an
insouciance
that
belies
the
reality
of
urinating
in
view
of
a
human
lineup.
It’s
essentially
a
performance
urinal.
The
hand
dryer
is
very
noisy,
the
acoustics
of
the
sink
space
funneling
sound
directly
into
the
main
room
above,
often
blanketing
the
voices
of
stage
performers.
Really,
it’s
a
performance
hand
dryer.
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