Potty Talk: Adventures in Awkward Bathroom Etiquette
We’ve all been there. You’re at a concert, dying to use the facilities before Beyoncé takes the stage, when you encounter IT: The Line of Doom. As you shuffle forward, inch by agonizing inch, you can’t help but wonder about the unspoken etiquette of this most personal public space.
Because let’s face it, public restrooms are a universe unto themselves. They’re a bizarre mix of necessity and social anxiety, where the rules are implied, the stakes are strangely high, and the potential for awkward encounters is off the charts.
Ah, the “hover.” A delicate dance performed by countless individuals (mostly, let’s be honest, women) who are convinced that any contact with a public toilet seat is akin to a biohazard incident.
I’ve witnessed some truly impressive hovers in my time. The deep squat, the one-legged flamingo, the desperate handstand against the stall door – you name it, I’ve seen it (or at least attempted it myself). But the real unspoken rule of the hover? Never, ever admit you’re doing it. We’re all just casually levitating here, nothing to see.
The Symphony of Shame: Public Restroom Soundscapes
Public restrooms are a symphony of sound, and I’m not talking about Mozart. From the symphony orchestra of automatic hand dryers to the percussive beat of a malfunctioning toilet, it’s a veritable concert of awkward noises.
Then there’s the personal soundtrack we all contribute: the cough to mask, well, *other* sounds, the overly loud flush to drown out any evidence, the frantic rummaging in your purse for a dropped lipstick (we’ve all been there, right?). It’s a chorus of human noises we try desperately to minimize, all while silently willing the person in the next stall to hurry up.