What I am about to say is silly and rediculous, and a rank anthropomorphization besides, but I do feel a little bad for the sink. Its fate brings to my mind the anguished words of arch-heretic Elisha Ben Avuya who, upon seeing the severed tongue of a Torah scholar on the ground, is recorded in yHag to have said: Shall the mouth that uttered pearls [of widom] lick dust?
His space already had the requisite brick walls and wooden floor. He added brown-and-white checkered tablecloths, installed smokers and special food warmers in the kitchen, and invested in photographs of smoke — like ethereal ink blots — for decoration. Years ago, Mr. Levy had installed a sink near the entrance so patrons could wash their hands before reciting the blessings over their kosher meal; he decided not to remove it and to improvise instead.
“Now they can wash the pork off their hands,” he said.
NB: The name Haikara always seemed to me to be a sideways attempt at snark. In Hebrew, the word can be construed as "expensive." (I suppose this could have simply been another example of the sort of obtuse error made by the owners of the Super 8 Motel chain.)