A Genuinely Eye-Opening Experience in the Bar Lavatory Line

Shortly before the festive season, I had an remarkable episode. I believe it proved instructive. This occurred at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but this isn't pertinent. The attending party were all blokes, which is key.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The establishment was a tavern doing a excellent custom. A wasted session was shared by the group. Fine food, fine drink and surprisingly amusing stories about teeth. Inevitably, the point dawned for trips to the men's room. Those who went, I vaguely observed, appeared to be away a long time. I didn't contemplate the reason this was, but when it became my turn, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the gents' lavatory. Not a single person waiting for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line knew.

An Experience of Everyday Life

To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for pity from any lady here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, having to queue to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. On countless occasions have I seen women queuing in a row while men in the comparable place have to do nothing of the sort?

Apart from the hassle of standing in line to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of indignity about lingering there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was decidedly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, observing the other sex breeze through the portal while I was forced to wait patiently in line with my companions, angling away at whatever we had in our jackets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – lavatory line banter – of which men have scant familiarity. Females, I imagine, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, exchanging small talk and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some female friends of my acquaintance. The consensus is that within-the-line dialogue is limited to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague told me it’s only at the washbasins afterwards that conversation tends to begin.

Had I been a woman, I’d not spend a moment on both pleasantries or quiet. If I was obliged, time and again, to wait in a public line merely for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the pure injustice of it. A handy metric for any advanced society would be equal waiting times in toilet queue durations. I’m seeking out studies on this.

Male Interaction in the Line

Back in my queue, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie going about this new situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something to the effect of: “Ah, this represents an irksome difference, isn't it lads?”

A fellow smiled, someone else looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. Another rolled his eyes as if this was one more manifestation of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, quiet ensued. Someone emerged, fastening his trousers. The line moved forward a spot. A couple more men joined the end of it. I exhaled.

A Knowing Moment

A woman emerged out of the neighbouring restroom, all clean and at ease. It was all right for some. I smiled bashfully at her, trying to communicate recognition of this reversed scenario. She said: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you bastard. Reappear when you’ve experienced this on a regular basis and at that point I could give you the time of day.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She didn’t say a word. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I honestly wouldn’t blame her.