An Illuminating Incident in the Bar Restroom Procession

In the run-up to the festive season, I experienced an remarkable incident. I feel it was beneficial for me. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who happen to be tooth doctors, but that’s not relevant. The present crowd were exclusively male, which is relevant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The venue was a tavern experiencing a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Good fare, good libations and remarkably entertaining anecdotes about oral health. As expected, the point dawned for trips to the men's room. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder why this could be, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

A Taste of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for sympathy from any woman here. I am fully aware that, for females, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a row while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the inconvenience of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a whiff of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, observing the other sex walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to line up dutifully in queue with my mates, looking distractedly at something we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Art of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a complete conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little familiarity. Women, I imagine, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, engaging in pleasantries and an notable insight or two.

On this I’ve asked some women of my acquaintance. The consensus is that within-the-line communication is confined to the rare exasperated look and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A associate told me it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that chat tends to start up.

Had I been a female, I’d refrain from on both niceties or quiet. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a public line merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A handy measure for any advanced culture would be balanced access in toilet lining-up periods. I’m seeking out research on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Returning to my wait, I tried to get some friendly chat going about this new situation of ours. I sighed a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something along the lines of: “So, this is an irksome difference, doesn’t it lads?”

A fellow chuckled, another seemed nonplussed, a third looked sheepish. Another rolled his eyes as if this was yet another example of broken Britain, political correctness etc. For the most part, quiet ensued. Someone exited, fastening his trousers. The line advanced a spot. A couple more men took a place at the rear of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Interaction

A woman wafted out of the next-door restroom, all fresh and at ease. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled apologetically at her, attempting to communicate an understanding of this topsy-turvy scenario. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you jerk. Come back when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I could give you the time of day.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I really would not censure her.