An Eye-Opening Incident in the Pub Toilet Queue
In the run-up to the festive season, I experienced an unusual situation. I believe it did me good. This happened at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but that’s not pertinent. The assembled crowd were all blokes, which proves to be significant.
A Novel Scenario
The location was a bar and eatery experiencing a roaring trade. A lost afternoon was shared by the group. Fine food, nice libations and surprisingly entertaining tales about teeth. Naturally, the time came for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it came to me next, all became clear.
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 considerable queue for the men’s. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering recognised.
A Sample of Everyday Life
Let me state unequivocally, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?
Beyond the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to wait for. It was truly sobering to get a taste of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was obliged to line up dutifully with others with my mates, angling away at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and checking our mobile devices.
The Art of Lavatory Queue Conversation
There’s a complete form of small talk here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have scant familiarity. Women, I presume, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an engaging observation or two.
About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my circle. The consensus is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the hand-washing stations afterwards that discussion tends to start up.
Had I been a female, I’d refrain from on either niceties or quiet. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to stand in a public line simply for the chance to relieve myself, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure injustice of it. A valuable benchmark for any advanced culture would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m researching studies on this.
Male Chat in the Procession
Back in my queue, I endeavoured to get some friendly chat flowing about this unprecedented state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something to the effect of: “Ah, this makes an disagreeable variation, doesn’t it boys?”
A fellow grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third appeared embarrassed. A further person shook his head as if this was yet another symptom of broken Britain, political correctness etc. Otherwise, silence ensued. Someone emerged, adjusting his clothing. The queue advanced a position. Another two men joined the end of it. I let out a breath.
An Unspoken Moment
A woman glided out of the adjacent toilet, all fragrant and relaxed. It was just fine for some. I grinned sheepishly at her, trying to express recognition of this upside-down state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't come to me for support, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and at that point I could give you the time.”
Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. But I know that’s what she was implying. And I honestly wouldn’t censure her.