An Illuminating Incident in the Pub Toilet Queue

Shortly before the holidays, I experienced an extraordinary situation. I believe it proved instructive. This happened at a gathering of some old friends, who are, as it happens dental professionals, but it's not important. The assembled crowd were exclusively male, which proves to be relevant.

A Strange Predicament

The establishment was a pub/restaurant experiencing a excellent custom. A wasted afternoon was shared by the group. Nice fare, good libations and surprisingly entertaining anecdotes about oral health. Naturally, the moment arrived for trips to the men's room. Those who ventured off, I half-noticed, looked to be gone a significant period. I didn't ponder why this was, but when it became my go, all became clear.

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 considerable queue for the men's. What fresh hell was this? This was not a reality any of us in this line knew.

An Experience of Common Reality

For the avoidance of doubt, I am not asking for pity from any female reader here. I am obviously conscious that, for women, being forced to wait to use a public toilet is an everyday occurrence. How many times have I witnessed women waiting in a line while men in the same establishment have to do the opposite?

Apart from the hassle of needing to wait to use a convenience, there’s a hint of humiliation about waiting there, awaiting something that men usually don’t have to endure. It was profoundly bracing to get a taste of it myself, seeing the other sex walk straight through the portal while I was compelled to line up dutifully in queue with my fellow fellas, angling away at something we had in our pockets and scrolling through our handsets.

The Practice of Lavatory Queue Banter

There’s a whole style of dialogue here – lavatory line banter – of which men have minimal experience. Women, I presume, have developed skills to be quite proficient at it, sharing pleasantries and an engaging observation or two.

About this topic I’ve polled some lady acquaintances of my circle. The general agreement is that queue-based interaction is confined to the rare exasperated look and the comment: “Forget this, I’m going to use the gents'.” A colleague informed me it’s merely at the washbasins later that discussion tends to begin.

Were I a woman, I’d refrain from on either pleasantries or reticence. If I was obliged, repeatedly, to queue in a shared procession simply for the opportunity to use the toilet, I’d rant angrily like there was no tomorrow at the utter inequity of it. A valuable metric for any advanced culture would be balanced access in toilet queue durations. I’m researching data on this.

Brotherly Chat in the Queue

During my time in my line, I attempted to get some male camaraderie started about this novel circumstance of ours. I tutted a bit, showed exasperation and uttered something like: “Well, this represents an irksome change, isn't it lads?”

A fellow chuckled, someone else looked blank, a other man appeared embarrassed. Another gave a dismissive wave as if this was yet another example of a failing society, political correctness etc. For the most part, quiet reigned. An individual came out, adjusting his clothing. The queue shuffled up a position. A couple more men took a place at the back of it. I exhaled.

A Silent Moment

A female emerged out of the neighbouring facility, all clean and relaxed. It was all right for some. I smiled apologetically at her, endeavouring to communicate an understanding of this reversed state of affairs. She remarked: “Don’t look to me for support, you jerk. Come back when you’ve experienced this a hundred more times and then I could give you the courtesy.”

Truthfully, she never spoke that. She didn’t say nothing. But I know that’s what she was feeling. And I truly could not censure her.