APR 23, 2006

SCOUTING REPORTS (VOL. 2)

It was a threat, though not a malicious one.  “We’re coming in!” came a cheerful female voice, echoing through the men’s bathroom.  “Please, no more men go in,” I could hear her say.  “We’ve got a long line of women here who really need to use the bathroom.” 

“Well, there’s one more guy in there,” responded an equally friendly male voice. 

That guy would be me, occupying the lone stall in the sardine can of a bathroom. 

I could hear the restless masses waiting for me to finish up my duties, and, I swear, I was trying.  But while it may be true that hell hath no fury like a woman waiting in the inevitable miles-long line outside a public restroom, a Crohn’s-afflicted gut hath no fury like being forced to suspend business abruptly.  Once the momentum’s going, it’s hard to stop, and to do so is to invite discomfort for the next few hours/days/weeks.  One minor benefit, if you can call it that, to having Crohn’s is that you develop a sort of Zen patience in the restroom.  You have to learn to go with the flow, to become one with the toilet, to meditate atop the porcelain throne (or at least to not burst out with a string of obscenities every time you have cramps or bloating or notice that you’ve spent 40 frickin’ minutes sitting there, and you forgot to take a good book in there with you). 

But I digress (as I digest).  There I was.  In a theater, at intermission, with a horde of women waiting for me to finish my business so that they could use the one measly stall in the guy’s room. 

Look, it is absolutely and completely ridiculous, not to mention unfair, that public buildings – especially those where lots of people will need to use the restroom in a short amount of time, e.g. theaters, sports stadiums and the like – often have basically equal distribution of toilets for men and women.  Men, clearly, can get in and out faster (unless you have Crohn’s, in which case you always need a stall, of which there is usually only one in a men’s room); hence the bladder-bursting lines at women’s restrooms.  I’m all for restroom affirmative action, and I think any architect who designs a public space that doesn’t have way, way more stalls for women than for men should have to use only Porta Potties for the rest of his or her life. 

But.  Men, believe or not, also have active gastrointestinal systems and too-small bladders; we really do need to use the bathroom, too.  I wonder what I would have done if I hadn’t already been in the bathroom when the women took over.  I’d wait, I guess.  And obviously, I’d have to wait if there were lots of men in the bathroom, though the line for the stall would probably be pretty short. 

Just as I’m annoyed when a bathroom is closed for cleaning – in the middle of the day, when it’s gonna get dirty again pretty soon, anyway – I would have been greatly distressed if I’d been told, “Well, yeah, there’s a men’s room here.  But you can’t go in it.” 

I think there should be three types of bathrooms in public spaces: Men’s, Women’s and I Gotta Go Now (IGGN).  The IGGN bathrooms would be staffed by an individual specially trained to observe people’s body language and facial expressions to gauge how badly they had to use the restroom – this would prevent abuse by those who just don’t like standing in line.  If the staffer could tell that the person could hold it, he or she would have to go use the standard restroom.  However, if the individual had that “Get the hell out of my way before the contents of my gut, and possibly various major organs, explode all over you” look, or the stooped, distressed look of someone who is thinking those words but is in such pain as to be unable to utter them, there would be no questions asked. 

The IGGN bathrooms would be stocked with nice, soft TP, lots of books, and a loud stereo system to drown out the various noises made by those occupying its stalls. 

I have heard that in Britain, while there are no IGGNs, those with Crohn’s and related maladies can procure a card that is supposed to grant them access to restrooms otherwise off-limits – those for employees only and the like.  That sounds like a wonderful idea, sort of a Get In to the Pail Free card.  The next time I’m in Britain, I’ll try to pick one up.  I would love to take a tour of some grand castle and flash that card – I mean, wouldn’t they have to let me use the Lord or Duchess’s very own throne if there were no others nearby? 

Tour guide: “Pardon me, m’Lord, but there’s a young lad out here who needs to use the water closet.  He has The Card.  Would you mind finishing up so he can pop in here ’fore he makes bloody hell out of your fine carpeting out here?”

Lord: “He has The Card?  Aye, then, I’d better be on my way and let the chap have a go.  I say, is it time for tea yet?”

We should try this sort of thing in the U.S.  Americans have, after all, made great strides of late in mapping the locations of bathrooms.  According to a recent article in The New Yorker (suggested motto: “Uncommon Insight, and Surprisingly Effective as Emergency TP”), a professor in New York has been trying to find every public restroom in the city, and create maps showing their exact location.  The trick, as he noted, is getting the information to those who need it when they need it. 

Still, it’s a start.