Wednesday, March 4, 2009


When I was in Middle School, my mom made me borrow an etiquette book from the library. I actually wound up learning a thing or two that has stuck as daily habits. What was missing in that etiquette book was chatting while on toilet.

I'm not girly enough that I MUST make a bathroom run with a gaggle of girls, but when I wind up going to the restroom with a friend, it's inevitable we're talking about something, and once we make it into our individual stalls, I'm inclined to continue the conversation lest I risk losing what we're talking about with my terrible short-term memory. But I do understand that when someone needs to "Do her buisness" in the little privacy we're allowed as we're treated to the sounds and tinkles of those around us.

Much like my telephone etiquette, depending on how well I know my bathroom companion, I may or may not pause out of some unspoken respect. Most of the time, particularly if we're having an engaging enough conversation, I'll keep going, regardless.

Yesterday, I was out with a good friend when we both had to make a run for the loo. We were chatting about something, and when it seemed the conversation was going to continue as we relived ourselves, we were interrupted by a woman making her presence known as she was camped out in the handicapped stall. She then proceeded telling us how it was the penthouse of bathroom stalls and likes it, and then started chatting how talking while on the toilet was antisocial. "Antisocial?" I asked, "Don't you being a faux pas?" And she agreed. And then continued on about this and that, how she's a poet and has a meeting, and hopes to get a ride home with someone since she didn't have a jacket...

I was peeing like a racehorse as this woman who jacked our conversation just kept talking and the conversation got stranger and stranger. At that point, I wasn't sure if I even wanted to meet this entity from the handicapped stall, as I was perfectly comfortable keeping our relationship between partitions and the acoustics of the restroom, so I dashed to wash my hands, said my goodbyes to the lady behind the handicapped stall, and my friend and I got out of there post-haste.

I would otherwise say I really dig messing with people's comfortability in social situations like these, but I think I have finally met my match.



  1. This is like the complete opposite of male behavior. All conversation stops at the threshold of the bathroom door, it you HAPPEN to go a the same time. A stranger talking to you in there, it grounds for getting their ass kicked followed by an infinite succession of swirlies.