An Illuminating Experience in the Bar Toilet Queue

Shortly before the festive season, I had an extraordinary episode. I believe it was beneficial for me. This occurred at a gathering of several mates, who are, as it happens dentists, but that’s not important. The present group were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

An Unfamiliar Predicament

The venue was a tavern doing a excellent custom. A wasted session was had by all. Good fare, nice beverages and remarkably entertaining anecdotes about dentistry. As expected, the point dawned for visits to the male facilities. Those who departed, I half-noticed, appeared to be away a considerable while. I didn't contemplate the reason this might have been, but when it became me next, the mystery was solved.

I turned the corner, and what awaited me but a long queue for the men's restroom. Not a single person waiting for the ladies' room, but a substantial line for the gents'. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue knew.

A Sample of Everyday Life

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for sympathy from any woman here. I am obviously cognizant that, for women, being forced to wait to use a restroom is standard practice. On countless occasions have I observed women standing in a queue while men in the comparable place have to do the opposite?

Apart from the inconvenience of having to queue to use a toilet, there’s a tinge of embarrassment about waiting there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was profoundly enlightening to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex breeze through the entrance while I was obliged to stand solemnly in queue with my fellow fellas, looking distractedly at something we had in our trouser pockets and checking our handsets.

The Practice of Restroom Line Chitchat

There’s a complete style of dialogue here – toilet queue chitchat – of which men have minimal experience. Ladies, I presume, have become adept to be rather good at it, engaging in pleasantries and an notable observation or two.

About this topic I’ve consulted some lady acquaintances of my circle. The general agreement is that intra-queue communication is restricted to the odd exasperated look and the phrase: “Screw this, I’m going to use the men’s.” A colleague told me it’s exclusively at the hand-washing stations afterwards that conversation tends to start up.

Were I a female, I’d waste no time on both small talk or silence. If I was forced, time and again, to queue in a common queue merely for the privilege to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the pure unfairness of it. A handy measure for any advanced society would be gender parity in wee waiting times. I’m looking for research on this.

Male Chat in the Queue

During my time in my wait, I tried to spark some brotherly banter started about this unprecedented situation of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and said something along the lines of: “So, this represents an irksome difference, doesn’t it lads?”

A fellow chuckled, someone else looked blank, a third looked sheepish. Yet another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of modern woes, cultural decline etc. Aside from that, silence prevailed. Someone emerged, zipping up. The queue advanced a spot. Another two men joined the end of it. I let out a breath.

A Knowing Exchange

A lady emerged out of the next-door facility, all fresh and unhurried. It was just fine for some. I beamed apologetically at her, attempting to convey recognition of this upside-down state of affairs. Her response was: “Don’t look to me for solidarity, you blighter. Come back when you’ve endured this on a regular basis and then I may give you the time.”

Truthfully, she did not utter that. She didn’t say anything. But I know that’s what she was thinking. And I really could not fault her.