When my women friends start wishing they should have been men whenever the queue in the mall restrooms reach superhighway lengths, I comfort them and say, it's not really what they think. It's not all the time as simple as unzip-splash-zip for us men. There are occasions when such mundane thing as choosing how to exactly unload becomes so perplexing. It's like choosing from an elaborate restaurant menu.
As soon as you enter the restroom, an important decision has to be made outrightly. Will you opt for an enclosed cubicle or be contented with the wall-pasted urinals lined up one after another? I'm telling you, this is not easy. The thing is, this lone decision item is only made after completing a thorough check on the restroom layout, the type of service urinals, the distance between urinals, if there are protective barriers between them, how many people are using the urinals at that time, how are they scattered, who is really peeing and who is not, which one has most water pressure, which one doesn't reek, and so on. What makes this exceptionally difficult is that all these decision items have to me made in split seconds. You don't get in there and hang around for a few minutes before deciding which one to hit. That's likely to invite burning glares from people.
I remember having a few good laughs on a few occasions that I hit the public restrooms whether in malls or airports. I can never understand how men can pee if they stand so close to the urinal that their foreheads kiss the walls. I don't know if they want to display their talents for noiseless peeing or if their champignons are so close to the balls they didn't want to display their frailties. That's how they come up with funny contortions from head to toe just so they don't feel violated. But what heck? Heads down there take the same mushroom shape. And besides, it's not like the whole giftedness is disclosed when seen in its flaccid state.
And so I have come to this: Women are still by far more fortunate. While they may have to wait a while to get in the cubicles before finally relieving themselves, they don't have to worry about ogling eyes over them when they do their thing. In the case of men, I have to say they're still the hapless unlucky lot. They have to make sure it's unloaded rightfully in the vessel without splattering droplets on the floor and their hands and at the same time making sure that no one's eyes are lucky enough to chance upon the sight of their tiny willy-billies.
So women, rejoice! You still win!!
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