A Genuinely Illuminating Experience in the Public House Lavatory Line

Just before the holidays, I experienced an unusual situation. I believe it was beneficial for me. This happened at a get-together of some old friends, who happen to be tooth doctors, but it's not relevant. The attending crowd were all blokes, which is significant.

A Novel Situation

The venue was a bar and eatery enjoying a roaring trade. A lost daytime was had by all. Nice fare, nice libations and unexpectedly entertaining stories about oral health. As expected, the time arrived for trips to the gents. Those who went, I partially registered, seemed to be absent a considerable while. I didn't ponder why this could be, but when it became my go, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this queue recognised.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any lady here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, having to queue to use a restroom is the norm. On countless occasions have I observed women queuing in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

Beyond the annoyance of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about lingering there, awaiting something that men typically don’t have to endure. It was truly bracing to get a taste of it myself, observing the other sex walk straight through the portal while I was compelled to line up dutifully in line with my mates, angling away at whatever we had in our jackets and checking our handsets.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Banter

There’s a complete conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant knowledge. Females, I imagine, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging pleasantries and an engaging observation or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some women of my circle. The consensus is that queue-based dialogue is limited to the odd eye roll and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that conversation tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d waste no time on either niceties or silence. If I was compelled, repeatedly, to queue in a shared procession merely for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like crazy at the sheer injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any modern community would be equal waiting times in toilet lining-up periods. I’m looking for studies on this.

Comradely Banter in the Line

Back in my wait, I attempted to initiate some friendly chat started about this new state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something to the effect of: “So, this makes an irksome change, isn't it boys?”

One person chuckled, a second seemed nonplussed, a other man appeared embarrassed. A further person shook his head as if this was one more example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. Someone came out, adjusting his clothing. The queue moved forward a place. Two more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Exchange

A woman glided out of the next-door restroom, all fragrant and relaxed. It was all right for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to convey acknowledgement of this reversed situation. She remarked: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Come back when you’ve done this a hundred more times and only then I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She said nothing. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly could not blame her.