A Truly Eye-Opening Incident in the Pub Toilet Queue

Just before the holidays, I encountered an extraordinary situation. I think it was beneficial for me. This happened at a get-together of a group of longtime companions, who are incidentally dentists, but that’s not relevant. The attending party were exclusively male, which proves to be key.

A Strange Situation

The location was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A lost afternoon was shared by the group. Good fare, good libations and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the point came for trips to the gents. Those who departed, I half-noticed, looked to be gone a long time. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it was me next, the mystery was solved.

Rounding the corner, and what should I find but a lengthy line for the gentlemen’s toilet. An empty space for the ladies' room, but a great long one for the men’s. What bizarre turn was this? This wasn’t a world any of us in this line were accustomed to.

A Taste of the Norm

For the avoidance of doubt, I neither court nor expect empathy from any lady here. I am acutely aware that, for ladies, having to queue to use a restroom is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I observed women waiting in a queue while men in the identical venue have to do the opposite?

In addition to the inconvenience of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, waiting for something that men generally don’t have to endure. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, observing the women glide through the portal while I was forced to stand solemnly in line with my mates, looking distractedly at something we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Art of Lavatory Queue Banter

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have little knowledge. Ladies, I imagine, have become adept to be quite proficient at it, sharing pleasantries and an interesting insight or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some female friends of my circle. The general agreement is that within-the-line communication is restricted to the rare exasperated look and the utterance: “Forget this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague mentioned it’s merely at the sinks afterwards that discussion tends to begin.

If I was a lady, I’d not spend a moment on both pleasantries or reticence. If I was obliged, time and again, to wait in a shared procession simply for the chance to empty my bladder, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the sheer unfairness of it. A useful benchmark for any modern community would be equal waiting times in urination lining-up periods. I’m researching data on this.

Comradely Chat in the Line

Returning to my line, I attempted to get some brotherly banter going about this novel situation of ours. I sighed a bit, gave a weary look and said something along the lines of: “So, this makes an disagreeable variation, isn't it lads?”

One person grinned, another looked blank, a third appeared embarrassed. A further person rolled his eyes as if this was one more symptom of modern woes, political correctness etc. Aside from that, silence prevailed. An individual emerged, adjusting his clothing. The queue shuffled up a spot. Two more men entered the back of it. I sighed.

A Knowing Moment

A female glided out of the next-door toilet, all fresh and unhurried. It was all right for some. I smiled bashfully at her, attempting to convey an understanding of this reversed situation. Her response was: “Don't come to me for support, you blighter. Return when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and only then I might give you the time of day.”

In reality, she never spoke that. She uttered a word. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not censure her.