An Illuminating Incident in the Bar Restroom Procession
Just before the festive season, I experienced an extraordinary episode. I feel it proved instructive. This happened at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but it's not relevant. The present party were solely men, which proves to be key.
A Novel Scenario
The venue was a bar and eatery experiencing a brisk business. A wasted session was enjoyed by everyone. Good food, fine libations and unexpectedly amusing stories about teeth. As expected, the moment dawned for trips to the gents. Those who went, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this could be, but when it came to my turn, all became clear.
Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue recognised.
A Sample of Common Reality
To be perfectly clear, I neither court nor expect empathy from any female reader here. I am acutely conscious that, for females, having to queue to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?
Beyond the annoyance of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a hint of humiliation about lingering there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was decidedly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, seeing the women walk straight through the entrance while I was forced to wait patiently in line with my mates, fiddling at whatever we had in our pockets and checking our mobile devices.
The Practice of Restroom Line Conversation
There’s a complete form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant familiarity. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, sharing polite remarks and an interesting comment or two.
About this topic I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The consensus is that intra-queue communication is confined to the odd weary glance and the phrase: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A workmate told me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations afterwards that chat tends to begin.
If I was a woman, I’d not spend a moment on both pleasantries or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to wait in a common queue only for the chance to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure inequity of it. A useful metric for any advanced community would be gender parity in urination waiting times. I’m looking for research on this.
Male Chat in the Queue
During my time in my wait, I endeavoured to get some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this makes an disagreeable difference, right lads?”
A fellow grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third individual seemed awkward. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was one more symptom of broken Britain, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, silence prevailed. A man emerged, fastening his trousers. The queue shuffled up a spot. A couple more men joined the rear of it. I let out a breath.
A Silent Moment
A woman emerged out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to communicate acknowledgement of this upside-down situation. She said: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you blighter. Come back when you’ve done this on a regular basis and only then I could give you the time of day.”
Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She uttered nothing. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I honestly would not blame her.