Thing 258 Pee in the Ladies

One of my many, many pet hates in this world is being inside a gents' toilet when a woman walks in and heads for one of the cubicles. It happens ALL the time. Apparently there are ridiculous queues for the Ladies' in any busy pub, and after a while, it becomes okay to stroll into the gents' to use the bathroom.

In the event that there was a queue for the gents' that stretched out the door and 'round the corner, and I found myself bursting for a toilet, do you think it would be okay for me to head for the Ladies'? We both know the answer to that question is: "Sorry Judge. I won't do it again".

But not this night... This night, I was striking a blow for men everywhere who had to cover their junk quickly when a lady walked into the gents'. On this night, I was boldly going where I'd never gone before...

Alright, I may have to level with you. I've been in a ladies' toilet before. I used to work in bars and clubs, and clean up time meant mopping floors and stuff, so when I say I've never gone there before, what I actually meant was, I'd never gone there during opening hours before...

Funny Story:

Heh is man. A very fine man. The Poet is also a man. A very fine, if slightly strange man (I know what you're thinking, glass houses, no stone throwing and all that). Once we all decided to play pants-chicken. Don't ask me why, we were eighteen and more than a little stupid, also, excessively drunk. Pants-chicken involves dropping your pants down by your ankles (leave the jocks on, no one wants to see that), and seeing who's going to chicken out and pull them up first. No one lost (except society). So it was decided to push the boat out a little....

Heh won the game. You could tell he won the game because the bouncers were dragging him from the ladies' toilets while he tried to pull the pants back up. The Poet and I lost the game. We stayed in the club and had a few more drinks. With our pants on.

Sorry, that was a major digression there, just felt it was relevant to the whole, ladies' toilets Thing.

Where was I? Oh yes...

I was still unwell, but New Yank was heading back to the US of A with his better half and I wanted to say goodbye and stuff. So we popped into Thorny Wire's place on Shannon Street and watched the United match. I knew what my Thing was going to be since earlier on that day. The problem with that is, that if you give me all day to think about it, I'll build it up in my head, and then I'll start getting nervous.

I must have looked at the door to the Ladies for about fifteen minutes. I started trying to mentally time the gap between women going in and out. There was no way I was strutting in there with the shoulders back. If I was doing this, it was going to be in and out.

Gap... go for it. Dodged in. Heard a noise behind me. Went completely silent. Lifted my feet up off the floor, because, you know, women investigate individual cubicles all the time right? There's a mental picture for you. Me, sitting on a toilet (pants still all the way on, since I'm painting a picture), with my feet raised as high as I can get them, looking panicked...

She left. I bolted.

Once I'd reached the safety of the hall main door you should have seen the change that came over me.

I strutted back to my seat. You'd swear I'd just conquered Everest. Smug isn't even close to the word. Now I think I don't care if ladies' use the gents' anymore. Tit for tat and all that.