Whoa.

Cool.

Not just hot, but steamy too. I washed dishes in college, and working in that steam all the time put an end to the acne I still had.

I understand how medical equipment originally costing thousands of dollars can be left behind in these abandoned buildings, because it's obsolete and not worth the expense of moving it. But it always amazes me to see Mott's pics of food service equipment like this that's rusting away in boarded-up buildings. Any city of any size has numerous businesses that deal in used restaurant equipment; commercial food service equipment lasts forever and sells for plenty of money. Used commercial dishwashers, for instance, sell for thousands of dollars, and machines 20, 30, 40 years old are still in use all over the place.

Seriously, how old are we, six? Can't most adults healthy enough to explore an abandoned building also control their bowels?

Graffiti always makes me wonder why such people have such a screaming need to make their presence known to all who come after. What deeply-rooted insecurity makes it impossible for them to pass through a place without making their mark? Why is it so necessary to be noticed?

Damn, you're good.

That's oddly melancholy.

Wow, nice shot.

I'm curious as to what brian ferreira thinks this is, if not a morgue.

That's a big soap dispenser on the right wall there.

These are vastly better than the showers at my own old high school (built circa 1956). One huge tiled room with eight showerheads jutting out of each long wall. No dividers or curtains.

Adolescent hell.

That's a terrible tile job. Wonder why they used wood instead of bullnose tiles?

It's the thin blue line.

That's a really fabulous shot. Kudos!

My dad has a hilarious picture of himself and a couple of Army buddies sitting on the pots in a communal bathroom like this.

Yes, you wouldn't want the autopsy patients to get a fatal infection.

Looks like a soap dispenser.

JLP, congratulations on your mastery of situational ethics. Boo.

When I was a kid our outdoor cats always went off somewhere to die -- the barn, a shed, under a porch -- and we found them later. (Traumatic, for a kid.) The only indoor cat I've ever had, now that I'm grown up and live in a condo, died curled up on his favorite chair. I came home from work and thought he was asleep until I went over to pet him and found that he was in fact permanently asleep. (Still traumatic for an adult.)

It's Zolatone! Good call, Bugout. We used to sell it in my family's paint store back in the '70s and '80s.

Cash registers used to be so expensive that most small businesses (and perhaps budget-conscious psychiatric hospitals) bought used machines that had been bought new by grocery or department store chains. Thus you would end up with a machine that had been ordered with department titles appropriate for, in this case, a big-box store with produce, meat, groceries, and appliances. My family's paint store cash register, for example, had keys for produce, meat, canned goods, photo, and bakery.

I'll hazard a guess that $96.48 was the total of all sales (the "Z" total, if you're old-school retail) from the last time the cash reregister was cleared on its last day of use.