An Illuminating Encounter in the Public House Lavatory Queue

Shortly before the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary incident. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who happen to be tooth doctors, but that’s not relevant. The attending group were exclusively male, which turns out to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The location was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Good food, good drink and surprisingly humorous stories about dentistry. Naturally, the time dawned for trips to the gents. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, appeared to be gone a considerable while. I didn't ponder why this might have been, but when it came to me next, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of the Norm

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for pity from any female reader here. I am fully conscious that, for women, being forced to wait to use a convenience is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women waiting in a row while men in the identical venue have to do no such thing?

In addition to the hassle of standing in line to use a facility, there’s a whiff of indignity about standing there, anticipating something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the portal while I was obliged to wait patiently with others with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our pockets and checking our handsets.

The Genre of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal familiarity. Women, I surmise, have become adept to be rather good at it, sharing small talk and an interesting observation or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some women of my circle. The consensus is that queue-based dialogue is confined to the odd eye roll and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that discussion tends to break out.

Were I a woman, I’d not spend a moment on both small talk or reticence. If I was forced, repeatedly, to wait in a public line only for the chance to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A handy measure for any civilised society would be equal waiting times in urination queue durations. I’m researching studies on this.

Comradely Chat in the Queue

During my time in my line, I tried to spark some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented circumstance of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something to the effect of: “Ah, this represents an disagreeable difference, isn't it boys?”

A fellow grinned, someone else appeared confused, a third looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was a further example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Otherwise, silence ensued. Someone emerged, zipping up. The group shuffled up a position. A couple more men took a place at the end of it. I let out a breath.

A Silent Exchange

A female emerged out of the adjacent facility, all fresh and at ease. It was all right for some. I grinned apologetically at her, trying to express acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you bastard. Return when you’ve done this on a regular basis and at that point I could give you the time of day.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not censure her.