A Genuinely Eye-Opening Experience in the Pub Restroom Queue

Just before the festive season, I encountered an remarkable episode. I believe it did me good. This happened at a meeting of some old friends, who happen to be dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The assembled crowd were solely men, which turns out to be significant.

A Strange Scenario

The establishment was a pub/restaurant enjoying a roaring trade. A forgotten afternoon was enjoyed by everyone. Fine fare, fine beverages and remarkably amusing anecdotes about teeth. Naturally, the moment dawned for excursions to the male facilities. Those who departed, I partially registered, seemed to be gone a significant period. I didn't contemplate why this might have been, but when it became me next, the mystery was solved.

Upon turning the bend, and what awaited me but a lengthy line for the men's restroom. No queue at all for the ladies' room, but a considerable queue for the men’s. What strange new world was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this line knew.

A Sample 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, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is the norm. How many times have I seen women queuing in a line while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

Apart from the hassle of having to queue to use a facility, there’s a whiff of embarrassment about standing there, awaiting something that men generally don’t have to experience. It was truly sobering to experience a dose of it myself, watching the women breeze through the door while I was compelled to wait patiently in queue with my companions, fiddling at anything we had in our trouser pockets and consulting our handsets.

The Art of Toilet Queue Conversation

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

About this topic I’ve asked some women of my knowledge. The general agreement is that queue-based communication is confined to the rare eye roll and the utterance: “Fuck this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A workmate informed me it’s merely at the sinks subsequently that chat tends to start up.

Had I been a woman, I’d refrain from on both pleasantries or reticence. If I was compelled, time and again, to queue in a common queue only for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d express my fury like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A valuable measure for any modern community would be equal waiting times in wee waiting times. I’m researching data on this.

Comradely Interaction in the Procession

Back in my wait, I endeavoured to spark some brotherly banter flowing about this new state of affairs of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and said something to the effect of: “So, this makes an irksome difference, isn't it boys?”

One person smiled, another appeared confused, a third individual looked sheepish. A further person shook his head as if this was yet another manifestation of a failing society, cultural decline etc. Otherwise, quiet reigned. A man exited, fastening his trousers. The queue advanced a place. Another two men took a place at the rear of it. I sighed.

A Knowing Moment

A lady emerged out of the adjacent restroom, all fresh and unhurried. It was perfectly okay for some. I smiled sheepishly at her, endeavouring to communicate recognition of this reversed situation. Her response was: “Don't come to me for solidarity, you blighter. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and then I may give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She uttered anything. But I believe that’s what she was feeling. And I truly wouldn’t censure her.