Fortunately for me this is the final chapter. You might want to check out Take A Number Part 2 before you read this one to feel the full extent of my bewilderment. My ignorance is detailed below.
The Line At The Loo
Last weekend at a bar when I went to use the toilet there was a man already there waiting his turn, making me second in line. The bathroom was in a hallway connecting two sections of the bar, and he was leaning against a wall directly in front of the bathroom door. I chose to give him a bit of personal space and stood against the wall about a meter to his right. While we were waiting, a woman came to wait for the toilet as well, making her third in line. She however chose to stand to his left and gave him almost no personal space at what to me – especially considering the objective of standing in that line – was an uncomfortable 10 cm. away. After a few seconds, another woman showed up to wait – making her fourth in line – and – following Close Swedish Line Standing protocol – stood 10 cm. behind the woman who was almost suffocating the first guy in line. Both women made eye contact with me. They knew what I was waiting there for and that I was there before them. But I could see what was going on here. There was now a queue and I wasn’t in it.
I knew there might be a problem for me, but I figured once again that human contact and general friendliness would take care of this. So when the first guy that was waiting finally got in and out of the loo, I prepared to take my turn. As he came out, I watched those two women’s faces deaden to unforgiving masks as they queued up with no mercy. The first woman cut me off before I even reached for the door handle. She didn’t even look at me before she went in. I looked at the other one. Stonefaced she was, and standing at the ready in pole position. I stood in my spot a meter away, defeated. As I saw a few more people coming to join the queue – which was now comprised of only one person, ironically not me – I rushed in front of them, deadened my face appropriately, and became second in line. As my bladder reached it limits of tolerance, I internalized the lesson. Follow the rules. Queue up. No mercy.
Final wrap-up: Through Emelie’s (my girlfriend) contact at her bank, I was finally able to open a bank account last week. Also, when I told her about waiting in line at the bathroom, she wasn’t surprised. ”One always forms queues to the left, here,” she said.
