A Genuinely Revelatory Incident in the Bar Toilet Line

Shortly before the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary episode. I feel it did me good. This happened at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dentists, but that’s not relevant. The assembled party were solely men, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Situation

The venue was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was had by all. Good fare, fine drink and unexpectedly humorous anecdotes about dentistry. Inevitably, the time came for trips to the gents. Those who departed, I half-noticed, appeared to be absent a long time. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it came to my go, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the female facilities, but a substantial line for the gents'. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this gathering recognised.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for females, needing to line up to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I seen women waiting in a line while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to experience. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, observing the women breeze through the entrance while I was obliged to wait patiently in line with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant familiarity. Ladies, I presume, have developed skills to be rather good at it, sharing pleasantries and an interesting observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my circle. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the rare eye roll and the comment: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the washbasins later that discussion tends to begin.

Had I been a female, I’d not spend a moment on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a common queue only for the opportunity to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure injustice of it. A useful measure for any civilised culture would be equal waiting times in urination waiting times. I’m looking for data on this.

Male Interaction in the Queue

Back in my line, I endeavoured to initiate some male camaraderie flowing about this novel state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something to the effect of: “Ah, this makes an disagreeable change, isn't it chaps?”

A fellow grinned, someone else looked blank, a third seemed awkward. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, silence reigned. A man came out, zipping up. The line shuffled up a place. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A woman glided out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and at ease. It was all right for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to convey recognition of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. Her response was: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you blighter. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and then I might give you the time of day.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She uttered nothing. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly would not censure her.