A Truly Revelatory Incident in the Public House Toilet Procession

In the run-up to the festive season, I experienced an extraordinary situation. I believe it did me good. This happened at a gathering of a group of longtime companions, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but that’s not pertinent. The attending party were solely men, which is key.

An Unfamiliar Scenario

The location was a tavern enjoying a excellent custom. A wasted daytime was shared by the group. Fine fare, good drink and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about dentistry. Inevitably, the moment dawned for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I vaguely observed, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it became my go, everything was revealed.

I turned the corner, and what should I find but a long queue for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line knew.

A Sample of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for females, having to queue to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a row while men in the identical venue have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the inconvenience of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about waiting there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was decidedly sobering to have a sample of it myself, observing the women breeze through the entrance while I was forced to wait patiently in queue with my fellow fellas, fiddling at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our mobile devices.

The Practice of Restroom Line Conversation

There’s a whole conversational genre here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I surmise, have learned to be quite proficient at it, sharing pleasantries and an engaging insight or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The consensus is that within-the-line interaction is restricted to the occasional exasperated look and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A associate mentioned it’s merely at the sinks later that chat tends to break out.

Had I been a lady, I’d waste no time on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was obliged, over and over, to queue in a public line merely for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d rant angrily like crazy at the pure injustice of it. A useful measure for any modern community would be equal waiting times in toilet queue durations. I’m seeking out data on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Back in my queue, I tried to get some brotherly banter going about this new state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something along the lines of: “Well, this makes an unpleasant change, isn't it chaps?”

A fellow grinned, someone else seemed nonplussed, a third individual looked sheepish. A further person shook his head as if this was a further example of broken Britain, political correctness etc. Otherwise, silence prevailed. Someone exited, fastening his trousers. The group advanced a place. Another two men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

A Silent Moment

A woman emerged out of the next-door facility, all fragrant and at ease. It was just fine for some. I beamed bashfully at her, attempting to communicate acknowledgement of this upside-down situation. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for sympathy, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve endured this another hundred times and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

Actually, she did not utter that. She said nothing. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I really wouldn’t blame her.