These days, “bath time” really only means one thing to me: plopping Leo in his whale-shaped tub and getting out his blue rubber ducky (we actually call it a “schnucky,” not to be confused with the authentic yellow ducky). I haven’t taken a bath at home in years, since I’ve never had a bathtub decent enough (or truly clean enough!) to climb into. We’ll have space for one in our new place, though, so I’ve been looking around, trying to get a read on the “tub” scene. The short of it? There isn’t really much of a tub scene here in SF. Most showrooms have, like, two on the floor because there just isn’t room. And you can scout the nets all day long, but do you really want to order a bath tub you’ve never sat in? That sounds like one of things where everyone’s like, “it’ll be fine,” but then you end up with a giant hideous white monstrosity that you can’t return.
All of this led me to one of the most simultaneously fantastic and frightening places to exist on this side of the Mason Dixon: Tubz. That’s right, with a “z” (classy). I drove all the way to Fremont (no, I don’t know where that is, either) to check out a warehouse that claimed to have 400 bath tubs on display… and, in case you were wondering, that claim is not a lie (not that I counted). I even got to go in the “back room” (ie. the stock room, but “back room” sounds much sketchier and more fun) to see a tub that was wrapped up for a customer,* and I sneaked a photo of the bathtubs on those metal racks wrapped up like eggs in cartons. That last picture is a shot of the bathtub we’re interested in, which they actually had on the floor (yes! 2-hour total car ride was worth it!) Would I recommend Tubz? Sort of. Do I hope I never have to go back? Absolutely.
*What is the point of showing somebody a tub wrapped in plastic that can’t be unwrapped? The sales guy was so excited, though. “You can’t really see it. But it’s in there!” I played along.
PHOTO CAPTION: Isn’t the Tubz sign sophisticated?