I was at a bar on Brickell the other day where in the men’s room they’ve got two urinals but one stall and when I stepped in for a piss I saw that there were two dudes waiting in line and I thought, “Fuck, I’m gonna burst,” but then I realized that the urinals were open.
These guys were waiting for the lone stall, which was occupied.
So I bustled over to the urinal and had one of those long sighing pees that make you deflate a little bit, and remember childhood.
Then another guy comes into the bathroom. A fourth. He walks right past the two guys in line, past me, goes up to the stall, tugs at the door, and finds that it’s locked.
The first of the two guys by the door says, “We’re in line for the stall.”
The man who just walked in looks back at them and says, “Oh, sorry.”
And then he walks to the bathroom door…and turns around.
He joins the line.
This line for the stall is three people deep!
Maybe that’s normal in a women’s room but, in a men’s room, it seems fuckin bizarre, the implication being,
“First, I will go in there and defecate. When I am done defecating, you will go in there and defecate. When you are done defecating, he will go in there and defecate…”
Obviously that’s totally normal, biologically speaking, but the idea of coordinating bowel movements among strangers feels irreconcilably weird to me.
But what else are they supposed to do?!
Can’t just run next door to the Cuban bakery, “Necessito! Necessito!”
That life is about compromise, is I guess what I’m saying. I’m reminded each day.