A Truly Illuminating Encounter in the Public House Restroom Queue

Just before the holidays, I had an remarkable incident. I think it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of some old friends, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but this isn't important. The present crowd were exclusively male, which turns out to be relevant.

A Strange Predicament

The location was a pub/restaurant doing a brisk business. A forgotten afternoon was had by all. Fine cuisine, nice beverages and unexpectedly entertaining stories about teeth. As expected, the point arrived for visits to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, seemed to be absent a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it was my go, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what did I discover but a long queue for the gents' lavatory. An empty space for the female facilities, but a great long one for the men's. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering recognised.

A Taste of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for pity from any woman here. I am acutely aware that, for females, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Apart from the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, observing the other sex glide through the door while I was forced to line up dutifully with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a complete conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little experience. Ladies, I imagine, have learned to be rather good at it, exchanging polite remarks and an notable comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the occasional weary glance and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to break out.

Had I been a woman, I’d refrain from on either small talk or reticence. If I was obliged, time and again, to queue in a public line merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure inequity of it. A useful measure for any modern community would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m researching studies on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Line

Back in my line, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie flowing about this new situation of ours. I tutted a bit, gave a weary look and said something to the effect of: “So, this represents an irksome variation, right chaps?”

A fellow smiled, someone else looked blank, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was a further symptom of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, stillness reigned. An individual came out, fastening his trousers. The line advanced a position. A couple more men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Moment

A lady wafted out of the adjacent toilet, all fresh and at ease. It was just fine for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, attempting to express acknowledgement of this topsy-turvy situation. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you bastard. Return when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and then I could give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she did not utter that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I honestly could not fault her.