The Toilet Incident

26 August 2003

The weirdest thing just happened to me. It's lunchtime. I just went to the toilet. The toilet is right across the other side of this floor, so when I go I always take my time to give myself an eye-break and stretch my back.

My little walks to the toilet give me the chance to look at everyone else. I think I recognise everyone on this floor now. just from noticing them as I pass on the way to and from the toilet.

I'm terrible for concentrating at work, a bit of a dreamer, and the toilet is just one of those places where I switch off. I dally in front of the mirror, spend too long playing with the water when I wash my hands, and I have a tendency to sit on the loo and ponder the mysteries of the universe entirely at my own leisure.

I always worry that I spend too much time on the bog. And if someone's waiting for me, then I worry that they wonder what the hell I'm doing. They might think I'm up to something, taking drugs, being weird. But I'm just sitting there pondering the universe!

Also, I'm really self-conscious of pissing in front of people. Not actually "in front" of people, I'm not one of those girls you see in nightclub bathrooms who have a gossip and share a locked loo and a cigarette like it's no big deal. I just can't piss and have it make a sound when there's someone outside the door that I know. I'm okay with strangers. But if I know the person, or even if I've looked them in the eyes and said "hi" on the way in, I just can't do it. I sit there in a very tense, self-conscious silence, hoping they will leave very quickly, and hoping that when I do start to pee that I don't make dribbling noises.

I digress. I've just come back from the loo. I came back the long way; in fact I took a circuit around the entire floor to get a look at everyone's face.

No one was in the bathroom when I went in, although a couple of people came in after me. I was rather self-conscious of the fact that one of the two women who came in after me had already flushed her toilet and was hanging around in front of the mirror. I was still sitting on the bog, having managed to drift off into a daydream. So I thought I would wait until she'd left the bathroom before I came out of the toilet.

I know, it sounds silly. But my own personal lavatory etiquette is much closer to the stereotype of the gents. No talking. No eye contact. It's just easier to put yourself well out of the way of potential embarrassment. For God's sake, what if the woman out there was laughing at the sound of me weeing? (Even though I always try to do it quietly).

So there I sat, waiting for them both to leave. I read the graffiti. This is a council building full of nice middle class, middle-aged, middle-intellect, middle-educated people, so there isn't much graffiti. It's a bit disappointing really, because I love reading the graffiti. It amuses me.

My favourite piece of graffiti ever is some that I read in my old high school toilets. At the top of the door –

WATCH OUT FOR POLE VAULTERS

At the bottom of the door –

WATCH OUT FOR LIMBO DANCERS

It made a lot of sense at the time because there were hundreds of horrible hyperactive teenage girls at that school, and they would jump up at the top of the door or throw wet tissue over the top to freak the quiet girls out.

I got bored of waiting for the woman to leave and pulled my trousers up, stood waiting to press the flush. It had gone past the point where I could make a casual, breezy exit. They might think I'd been sat in there with bowel problems or something.

I listened to the other toilet flush, the second woman rinse and dry her hands and exit.

Silence. Had the first woman left? I waited another couple of minutes. Must have gone. But I was sure I'd only heard one person leave. So I thought I'd better take a precautionary glance under the toilet door to make sure.

I bent down, thinking vaguely about watching for limbo dancers, and peered underneath the gap.

I saw a shape and I thought it must be someone's feet, but as I got a proper look I realised it wasn't. It was someone's face. There was someone staring back at me under the toilet door! A middle-aged, plump woman with saggy eyes and dark curly hair.

I leapt backwards and my legs caught the front of the toilet seat and made it clatter loudly. There was a woman staring right at me! How long had she been there? What the hell was she doing? Was this because I'd taken so long? What did she think I was doing in here? I felt terribly, terribly guilty and I could feel my cheeks heating up.

But I was also really angry. What kind of game was she playing, invading my privacy like this? Or maybe – maybe she didn't know if there was someone in here, and she was looking to find out? I did the only sane thing I could think of; I climbed up on the toilet seat so she couldn't see my feet.

What the hell was I going to do now? I couldn't very well walk out and give her what-for, could I? I tried to peer over the top of the toilet door, but then I realised she might well be trying to peer back. So I crouched down on the toilet seat so she wouldn't be able to see me.

I waited. I listened. I couldn't hear anything at all. Only the sound of one of the taps dripping, and someone laughing in the corridor outside. I couldn't even hear the sound of breathing.

The bathroom door banged open and I jumped so hard I banged my elbow against the toilet roll cylinder. This made me swear.

A couple of other women had come into the bathroom. Now was my big chance for escape. I stepped off the toilet and flushed it with as much force as I could muster, pulled open the door.

She'd gone.

I washed and dried my hands quickly. If there hadn't been people in the toilet, I would have stayed for a few minutes more, just to make certain I wouldn't bump into her in the corridor outside.

I did have a dreadful feeling I would walk right into her in the corridor. When I didn't, I was actually almost disappointed.

Copyright © 26 August 2003

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