A Truly Illuminating Incident in the Bar Toilet Queue

In the run-up to the festive season, I had an remarkable incident. I think it did me good. This took place at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally tooth doctors, but it's not pertinent. The present party were all blokes, which proves to be significant.

A Novel Situation

The venue was a bar and eatery enjoying a brisk business. A forgotten session was shared by the group. Fine fare, nice beverages and surprisingly amusing tales about teeth. Inevitably, the point came for excursions to the men's room. Those who went, I vaguely observed, seemed to be away a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this was, but when it was my go, everything was revealed.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a long queue for the gents' lavatory. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a substantial line for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect sympathy from any lady here. I am fully aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a convenience is standard practice. Repeatedly have I seen women waiting in a row while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a facility, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about waiting there, anticipating something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was truly sobering to have a sample of it myself, seeing the women breeze through the portal while I was forced to stand solemnly in queue with my fellow fellas, fiddling at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Chitchat

There’s a complete form of small talk here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have scant experience. Women, I imagine, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging pleasantries and an engaging comment or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some women of my circle. The general agreement is that queue-based communication is confined to the occasional weary glance and the comment: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the washbasins subsequently that conversation tends to begin.

Were I a female, I’d waste no time on both pleasantries or silence. If I was forced, time and again, to stand in a public line only for the privilege to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like crazy at the sheer injustice of it. A valuable metric for any advanced society would be gender parity in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out data on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Procession

Back in my line, I tried to initiate some male camaraderie started about this new situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and uttered something to the effect of: “So, this represents an disagreeable change, isn't it lads?”

One person smiled, someone else looked blank, a third looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was one more example of a failing society, political correctness etc. Aside from that, quiet prevailed. A man exited, zipping up. The group advanced a place. A couple more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

An Unspoken Interaction

A lady wafted out of the neighbouring facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to express an understanding of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. She remarked: “Don't come to me for sympathy, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and at that point I might give you the time.”

Actually, she never spoke that. She uttered a word. But I believe that’s what she was implying. And I truly could not fault her.