A Genuinely Revelatory Incident in the Pub Restroom Procession

In the run-up to the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary incident. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of several mates, who are, as it happens tooth doctors, but it's not pertinent. The present crowd were solely men, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Situation

The location was a pub/restaurant experiencing a brisk business. A forgotten afternoon was shared by the group. Nice fare, good libations and remarkably humorous anecdotes about teeth. Inevitably, the point arrived for excursions to the gents. Those who ventured off, I partially registered, looked to be gone a considerable while. I didn’t dwell on the reason this was, but when it was me next, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what did I discover but a long queue for the men's restroom. An empty space 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 knew.

An Experience of Everyday Life

For the avoidance of doubt, I do not seek or anticipate sympathy from any female reader here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, needing to line up to use a convenience is the norm. How many times have I seen women queuing in a row while men in the same establishment have to do nothing of the sort?

In addition to the annoyance of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a tinge of humiliation about waiting there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to wait for. It was profoundly bracing to experience a dose of it myself, watching the opposite gender breeze through the portal while I was obliged to stand solemnly in line with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at whatever we had in our trouser pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Practice of Toilet Queue Banter

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal knowledge. Females, I presume, have developed skills to be fairly skilled at it, exchanging pleasantries and an engaging comment or two.

Regarding this I’ve asked some female friends of my acquaintance. The consensus is that queue-based interaction is limited to the rare weary glance and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A colleague informed me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations subsequently that chat tends to begin.

Were I a lady, I’d not spend a moment on either small talk or quiet. If I was forced, repeatedly, to queue in a common queue simply for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure injustice of it. A valuable benchmark for any modern society would be equal waiting times in urination lining-up periods. I’m seeking out data on this.

Comradely Banter in the Procession

Back in my wait, I endeavoured to initiate some friendly chat going about this novel situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and said something to the effect of: “Well, this represents an unpleasant variation, isn't it lads?”

A fellow smiled, someone else seemed nonplussed, a other man appeared embarrassed. Another shook his head as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, woke madness etc. For the most part, quiet prevailed. A man exited, adjusting his clothing. The line moved forward a place. Two more men entered the back of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Moment

A lady glided out of the adjacent facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled bashfully at her, trying to express an understanding of this reversed situation. She remarked: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Come back when you’ve endured this another hundred times and then I could give you the time of day.”

Truthfully, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say a word. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I truly could not blame her.