A Truly Illuminating Incident in the Bar Restroom Queue

Shortly before the holidays, I had an remarkable incident. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a meeting of a group of longtime companions, who happen to be dental professionals, but it's not relevant. The present crowd were exclusively male, which turns out to be significant.

An Unfamiliar Situation

The establishment was a tavern experiencing a brisk business. A wasted daytime was shared by the group. Nice fare, fine libations and remarkably amusing anecdotes about dentistry. Inevitably, the time arrived for trips to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I vaguely observed, seemed to be away a long time. I didn’t dwell on why this might have been, but when it was me next, everything was revealed.

Upon turning the bend, and what should I find but a sizeable procession for the men's restroom. An empty space for the women’s toilet, but a considerable queue for the men's. What bizarre turn was this? This was an unfamiliar scene any of us in this queue recognised.

An Experience of Common Reality

Let me state unequivocally, I am not asking for sympathy from any woman here. I am fully aware that, for females, having to queue to use a convenience is standard practice. Repeatedly have I observed women waiting in a row while men in the comparable place have to do no such thing?

Apart from the annoyance of having to queue to use a convenience, there’s a hint of humiliation about standing there, waiting for something that men typically don’t have to experience. It was decidedly enlightening to experience a dose of it myself, watching the other sex breeze through the entrance while I was compelled to stand solemnly in line with my companions, looking distractedly at anything we had in our pockets and scrolling through our mobile devices.

The Practice of Restroom Line Banter

There’s a entire style of dialogue here – restroom waiting talk – of which men have minimal familiarity. Women, I surmise, have become adept to be fairly skilled at it, sharing polite remarks and an notable insight or two.

Regarding this I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my acquaintance. The prevailing view is that queue-based interaction is restricted to the rare eye roll and the phrase: “Forget this, I’m going to use the male.” A workmate mentioned it’s exclusively at the sinks afterwards that conversation tends to break out.

If I was a lady, I’d refrain from on both pleasantries or silence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to wait in a common queue only for the privilege to relieve myself, I’d express my fury like nobody’s business at the sheer injustice of it. A valuable benchmark for any modern culture would be balanced access in wee queue durations. I’m seeking out data on this.

Brotherly Interaction in the Line

During my time in my queue, I endeavoured to spark some male camaraderie going about this new situation of ours. I clicked my tongue a bit, rolled my eyes and remarked something to the effect of: “Well, this makes an irksome change, doesn’t it chaps?”

Someone smiled, a second seemed nonplussed, a third looked sheepish. Another shook his head as if this was yet another manifestation of modern woes, woke madness etc. Otherwise, stillness reigned. An individual came out, fastening his trousers. The group shuffled up a spot. Two more men entered the rear of it. I sighed.

An Unspoken Exchange

A woman wafted out of the next-door toilet, all fragrant and at ease. It was perfectly okay for some. I grinned apologetically at her, attempting to communicate an understanding of this reversed scenario. Her response was: “Don't turn to me for sympathy, you jerk. Reappear when you’ve experienced this another hundred times and only then I may give you the time.”

In reality, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say nothing. But I am convinced that’s what she was implying. And I honestly wouldn’t fault her.