Toilets at the Garden of Unearthly Delights were putrid and embarrassing | Jess Adamson
I had a fantastic time at the Garden of Unearthly Delights, writes Jess Adamson – until it was time to use the portaloos. They. Were. Disgusting.
Opinion
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How fantastic is the vibe in our beautiful city right now?
We ate with friends on Rundle St on Friday night, happily immersing ourselves in the huge crowd, the pretty lights, live music and sensational food and wine.
I absolutely love the Fringe. It’s our time to showcase amazing Adelaide to the world, and like many families, we get in there as much as we can – mostly to see a show, sometimes just to wander and soak up the energy.
I’m not sure if it’s my post-Covid lens, but it seems bigger, brighter and more beautiful than ever this year.
Except for the toilets. They are not beautiful. They are putrid and embarrassing. On Saturday night the portable toilets in the Garden of Unearthly Delights sadly became the main conversation of our night out. And we weren’t the only ones discussing them.
To be fair there were tens of thousands of people in the garden on Saturday night. The atmosphere was electric.
The queues were long but that didn’t bother me – some of the best and funniest conversations I’ve had in life have been with total strangers in a bathroom or a toilet line-up. And a queue is the price you pay for going to a great event.
But the stench from the garden’s portaloos, particularly those closest to the entrance, was enough to make me gag. As I nervously edged closer, the faces of the people emerging from the cubicles said it all.
People were shaking their heads and laughing in disbelief. Temporary toilets are never going to smell like roses, especially after a heatwave, but this was next level.
The man in front of me gave a running commentary of their reactions. He was Scottish and must be one of the Fringe acts because he had us all in stitches despite our predicament.
When it was his turn, he lasted in there less than 10 seconds. He opened the door and declared to the waiting patrons “there’s no toilet paper and the seat is covered in piss – you’ll have to stand up and hover.”
There wasn’t exactly a rush after that.
None of us were expecting a five-star experience, but these loos wouldn’t get one star.
The smell of stale urine (and worse) was so bad I wrapped my jumper tightly around my face but still dry-retched. For the germaphobes in the crowd it must have been a nightmare.
Parents with young children in the line turned away as they got closer and I was relieved we didn’t have ours with us. At one point, a staff member moved in and shut down an entire row of the toilets because of the state of them. I assume some cleaners were incoming. I hope they’re paid well.
A group of beer-drinking young blokes, who’d just made it to the front of the line, shifted the iron security screens and started urinating in the creek that runs through the garden.
Within moments police were onto them, warning them about urinating in a public place, an offence that comes with an $80 fine, plus a $94 victims-of-crime levy. $174 is an expensive wee in my book.
Fair play to SAPOL – it’s a family show, but if I had the same anatomy, I would have been paying the fine.
The state government has granted an extra $8m in funding to the Fringe across four years. With that boost, organisers are aiming for a million tickets to be sold this season and they say they’re on track – an incredible achievement which should be applauded.
But if we want a million people at this show, the one we love and know as the greatest show on earth, we need to get the infrastructure right.
I am not precious about a portaloo. I spent my youth at wild B&S balls in the bush where the toilets were long drops, a primitive seat over a hole in the ground. Even they were cleaner.
The queues on Saturday night weren’t helped by the fact that many of the cubicles were engaged for up to 10 minutes at a time by two people. There is no way they were having a team wee in those conditions and I’m pretty sure they weren’t being intimate. I couldn’t care less what they were up to, but how anyone could snort anything in that small, sweltering, stinky space is beyond me.
Maybe it’s time we gave these people a separate place to go to do their thing. Call it a powder room, call it what you want. But when our big events are at peak demand and everyone, including small children, are busting to go, they are a waste of space.
Premier Peter Malinauskas told a major business lunch recently that he’s encouraging the organisers of the upcoming LIV Golf tournament to release more tickets.
This event, in late April, is going to be massive. South Australia will play host to a swag of golfing superstars never before seen in our state. About 43,000 tickets have been sold so far and 40 per cent of those are from interstate or overseas. The AFL’s Gather Round is the week before and those on board are being encouraged to stay on and enjoy our great state for a little longer.
I’m all for making a big impression in our first year of hosting LIV Golf, but let’s make sure we have the facilities in place to get it right. The event will have a festival-style fan village and is promising headline entertainment acts. We’re proved ourselves damn good at that stuff.
But I suspect the crowd heading for the Grange Golf Club, one of our premier sporting venues, will have high expectations. So let’s not skimp on the lavvies.
The Fringe has nailed the hospitality side of things. Even with the massive crowd on Saturday night it was easy to get food and drinks, and there were plenty of tables to gather at. If they can get the hard stuff right, the loos should be simple.
We’re heading back to the Fringe this week and can’t wait to get among it again.
To pee or not to pee, that is the question.
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