A Truly Revelatory Experience in the Public House Toilet Procession

In the run-up to Christmas, I encountered an remarkable incident. I think it proved instructive. This happened at a get-together of some old friends, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but this isn't important. The assembled party were solely men, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Situation

The establishment was a tavern enjoying a roaring trade. A lost session was enjoyed by everyone. Nice cuisine, nice libations and surprisingly humorous tales about dentistry. Inevitably, the moment arrived for trips to the gents. Those who went, I half-noticed, looked to be absent a significant period. I didn't ponder the reason this might have been, but when it came to my turn, all became clear.

Rounding the corner, and what awaited me but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this gathering were accustomed to.

An Experience of the Norm

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate empathy from any lady here. I am fully cognizant that, for ladies, having to queue to use a convenience is standard practice. How many times have I witnessed women queuing in a line while men in the same establishment have to do no such thing?

Apart from the hassle of standing in line to use a convenience, there’s a hint of embarrassment about lingering there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was profoundly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, watching the other sex glide through the entrance while I was obliged to wait patiently with others with my companions, fiddling at whatever we had in our jackets and consulting our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Conversation

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have little experience. Females, I imagine, have learned to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The prevailing view is that within-the-line interaction is limited to the rare exasperated look and the utterance: “Screw this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague informed me it’s merely at the washbasins subsequently that discussion tends to start up.

Were I a lady, I’d waste no time on either small talk or reticence. If I was obliged, time and again, to stand in a public line merely for the opportunity to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the pure injustice of it. A useful benchmark for any modern community would be balanced access in wee lining-up periods. I’m researching data on this.

Male Chat in the Line

Returning to my line, I endeavoured to get some brotherly banter flowing about this unprecedented situation of ours. I tutted a bit, rolled my eyes and said something to the effect of: “So, this makes an disagreeable change, doesn’t it chaps?”

Someone grinned, someone else looked blank, a other man seemed awkward. A further person gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of modern woes, political correctness etc. Aside from that, silence ensued. Someone emerged, zipping up. The line shuffled up a place. Two more men took a place at the end of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Moment

A woman wafted out of the next-door toilet, all clean and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I beamed sheepishly at her, endeavouring to express an understanding of this topsy-turvy state of affairs. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for solidarity, you jerk. Come back when you’ve done this on a regular basis and at that point I may give you the courtesy.”

In reality, she did not utter that. She said a word. But I believe that’s what she was thinking. And I truly could not blame her.