Sunday Newscape Magazine

I was recently compelled to attend yet another professional sporting event. As someone who would almost rather undergo a root canal than attend such events (I said almost), I like to kill time when I’m there by making frequent trips to the concession stand. That’s the place where the team owner charges almost as much for cellulite-friendly food as my dentist charges for a root canal.

To wash down all the junk food I’m eating, I drink more than a few beverages. Not surprisingly, this means I also spend quite a bit of time in the ladies room. Actually, I spend time standing in a line of women waiting to get into our designated comfort station. Most of us, however, are none too comfortable. In some cases, legs are crossed and eyeballs beginning to float before we even make it to the restroom door.

That’s how it was the other day when I was in an unusually long line that snaked past the men’s room, where there was no line. Where there is never a line. We had to watch dozens of males stroll in without encountering any delay in doing their business. We waiting women began to glare at the men and seethe at the injustice of it all.

Finally, one lady posed aloud the question we’d all been asking ourselves.

“Why isn’t the women’s bathroom twice as big as the men’s?”

Why indeed. Due to certain anatomical differences, men need far less space than women to, as the British say, “spend a penny.” And due to certain personality differences, we also need extra time in the loo (another British term) to stand around powdering our noses, lining our lips and talking about feelings and other things I cannot disclose here. That’s why we need much larger public restrooms.

“Yeah!” we shouted in agreement, as the line inched forward only slightly. “Bigger bathrooms! Yeah!”

So must have begun the American experiment with democracy when the Founding Fathers - who probably never had to wait for a toilet stall - expressed similar outrage over inequality. They might have been a little more eloquent about it than we were. But still, standing outside the ladies’ lounge with my legs crossed, I sensed that revolution was in the air. All we needed was a leader.

And suddenly, we had one. She stepped forward, a tall, confident-looking woman in stylish boots.

“I’m not waiting in this line any longer,” she announced. “I’m using the men’s room.”

She strode purposefully into the male inner sanctum as we gasped in admiration. It was like watching George Washington crossing the Delaware River. Washington, however, was fortunate enough to have followers to back up his brave bid for freedom. Our ladies’ room rebel had to enter the arena alone.

The rest of us - ladylike lemmings afraid of the sight of urinals - continued to toe the line. So much for revolution.

Back in the 1970s, the Equal Rights Amendment was pilloried for its potential to force us to use - horrors - unisex toilets. I’m thinking that might not have been such a bad idea.

© Jackie Papandrew, All Rights Reserved