A Truly Illuminating Encounter in the Public House Lavatory Line

Just before the holidays, I experienced an remarkable incident. I feel it proved instructive. This happened at a gathering of several mates, who happen to be dental professionals, but that’s not pertinent. The present party were all blokes, which turns out to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The location was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Fine food, good drink and surprisingly humorous stories about teeth. Inevitably, the point arrived for excursions to the male facilities. Those who went, I partially registered, looked to be gone a considerable while. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it became my turn, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what did I discover but a long queue for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line were accustomed to.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for sympathy from any lady here. I am fully conscious that, for women, needing to line up to use a convenience is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a hint of indignity about standing there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was profoundly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, watching the women breeze through the door while I was compelled to wait patiently with others with my mates, angling away at anything we had in our pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a complete form of small talk here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal knowledge. Females, I presume, have learned to be quite proficient at it, engaging in polite remarks and an interesting comment or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some women of my acquaintance. The general agreement is that queue-based dialogue is limited to the odd weary glance and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate told me it’s only at the sinks later that conversation tends to break out.

Were I a woman, I’d waste no time on both niceties or quiet. If I was compelled, time and again, to wait in a common queue only for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure injustice of it. A valuable metric for any civilised culture would be balanced access in wee waiting times. I’m researching studies on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I endeavoured to get some friendly chat going about this new state of affairs of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something to the effect of: “So, this represents an disagreeable variation, isn't it chaps?”

A fellow grinned, a second looked blank, a third seemed awkward. Another shook his head as if this was one more example of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, silence ensued. An individual came out, zipping up. The queue shuffled up a place. Another two men entered the rear of it. I let out a breath.

An Unspoken Interaction

A lady glided out of the next-door toilet, all fragrant and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I smiled apologetically at her, trying to convey recognition of this topsy-turvy scenario. She said: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you jerk. Return when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and then I might give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered nothing. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I really could not blame her.