An Eye-Opening Experience in the Public House Lavatory Line
Just before the festive season, I had an remarkable incident. I believe it proved instructive. This took place at a get-together of several mates, who are incidentally dentists, but it's not important. The present group were all blokes, which is key.
An Unfamiliar Situation
The establishment was a bar and eatery enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted daytime was shared by the group. Good fare, nice beverages and remarkably entertaining tales about dentistry. As expected, the point dawned for excursions to the men's room. Those who went, I vaguely observed, appeared to be absent a significant period. I didn’t dwell on the reason this might have been, but when it came to my turn, everything was revealed.
Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the gents' lavatory. No queue at all for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line recognised.
An Experience of Everyday Life
To be perfectly clear, I am not asking for empathy from any lady here. I am obviously conscious that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. Repeatedly have I witnessed women standing in a row while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?
In addition to the hassle of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a hint of embarrassment about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly sobering to have a sample of it myself, watching the opposite gender walk straight through the portal while I was forced to line up dutifully with others with my companions, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our phones.
The Practice of Toilet Queue Chitchat
There’s a entire conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little knowledge. Females, I imagine, have learned to be rather good at it, sharing small talk and an interesting insight or two.
About this topic I’ve asked some women of my circle. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is confined to the odd exasperated look and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks subsequently that chat tends to break out.
Were I a lady, I’d not spend a moment on both pleasantries or silence. If I was forced, time and again, to stand in a public line merely for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d vent my spleen like there was no tomorrow at the pure injustice of it. A valuable benchmark for any advanced community would be gender parity in toilet lining-up periods. I’m looking for data on this.
Brotherly Chat in the Procession
During my time in my queue, I attempted to initiate some brotherly banter started about this novel circumstance of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, gave a weary look and remarked something like: “Ah, this is an irksome difference, isn't it lads?”
One person smiled, someone else appeared confused, a third looked sheepish. A further person shook his head as if this was yet another example of broken Britain, woke madness etc. Otherwise, silence ensued. A man came out, fastening his trousers. The group advanced a position. A couple more men entered the end of it. I sighed.
A Knowing Exchange
A female emerged out of the next-door facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I grinned apologetically at her, endeavouring to express acknowledgement of this reversed scenario. She remarked: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you bastard. Return when you’ve done this on a regular basis and only then I may give you the time of day.”
In reality, she never spoke that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I honestly could not blame her.