because i was born with a bladder the size of a walnut. and this means that a good portion of the time i spend at bars (which is, as we understand, a good portion of the time) is spent in line for the ladies' room.
i can't tell you how many parties i've been to where i had to hear about the good stuff the next morning. (when it's never as good.)
everyone: oh my god, can you BELIEVE what he DID last night?!
me: believe what who did? someone DID something?
everyone: oh, you must have been in line for the bathroom. don't worry about it. you just had to be there.
there was even a new year's eve party where the line for the bathroom was sooooooo long that after i finished i got right back in line again. i didn't have to go, but figured by the time it'd be my turn, i would.
i was right.
my point here is that it's sad. not just that i have to pee with great urgency with great frequency, but that it takes FOREVER to do so when i am in a venue where there are lots of people...and i do NOT understand why this is.
i do not understand WHAT ON EARTH women DO in the ladies' room that takes longer than is humanly necessary. i do not understand women who SEE that there is a long line and who KNOW there is a long line because they had just been IN the long line, who then somehow decide it is perfectly acceptable for them to use the ladies' room as their own private retreat anyway.
seriously. do they think they have earned something the rest of us hasn't? what goes through their heads?
why is this line sooooo long? i hate waiting. i have to use the ladies' room right now. i shouldn't have to wait, waiting is for losers. everyone else should have to wait but i should not. no. and so i think that when it is my turn, i will prove how much i am not a loser by taking my sweet damn time. the other people waiting in line do not deserve the bathroom the same way i do. i am a creature of beauty and have some standards to uphold. no one cares what these other women look like, but me? it takes work to look this hot. peeing is not enough! i need -- no, i OWE it to the world -- to use this one, single stall to also fix my hair. several times. and retouch my makeup. and adjust my bra. and give myself some verbal affirmations in the mirror. and think about how much that guy is totally into me. he is totally into me, isn't he?
maybe i should ask my friend to come into the stall with me so we can talk about it...
now, i will admit that there is one benefit to waiting in a long line for the ladies' room. and that is the immediate bonding that happens between you and every other woman in line who is also standing cross-legged, rolling her eyes wondering why it is that the woman using the facility is taking SO DAMN LONG.
in fact, it is my belief that NOTHING will create a connection between women faster or more stable than the Bathroom Bond.
especially when those forming the Bathroom Bond have been drinking. a LOT.
so um, are you wondering what harry potter has to do with all this?
because i think i might be. you know, if i had been teased by the title of this post. and what about the lesbian? i might also wonder. and kristy, i might even think, in a kind of pissed-off way, this post doesn't sound anything like the one el_gallo suggested. seriously, why are you talking about your bladder?
and in response, i'd be told by--
(uhmm, in this scenario i'd have to be told by me, huh? stupid set up. whatever.)
-- by me that it's because i went too long being blocked and now there's a sudden outpouring and i have no filters and shutup because this is all relevant backstory anyway.
well, except for the part where i talk to myself about my post.
see, never have i experienced the power of the Bathroom Bond more acutely than...
for those of you who live in a sane part of the country, halloween might be a ho-hum holiday for kids, or -- at best -- an opportunity for adults to play dress-up and drink more than usual.
in san francisco, however, halloween is epic.
the illustrious castro* is cordoned off, and THOUSANDS of crazies pour in to show off their outrageous costumes to the other THOUSANDS of plain-clothed, killjoy vicarious thrill-seekers who clog the streets , gawking and drinking cheap beer.
the effect is something like this:
(click for larger)
(is this not unreal?)
the whole thing is perfectly insane and anything goes and i know it's not for everyone but exactly one week after i moved to this city it sounded like the best thing i'd ever heard of.
and so el_gallo and i got totally decked out and headed to the castro early enough to find a bar. and when we -- dressed as an alarmingly absurd prom queen and very realistic devil -- passed by one such bar advertising $5 margaritas, we knew we'd found a good spot.
but when we saw that the bartender was dressed as a very realistic and adorable harry potter, we knew we'd found the best spot ever.
so i started with the margaritas.
and because i loved harry potter so much -- since he is magical AND makes a killer margarita -- i had more margaritas than maybe i should've.
in rapid succession.
and so when all of a sudden i realized i had to pee, i REALLY had to pee.
now, it is worth noting at this point that a lot of the bars in the castro enjoy a predominantly male patronage. so while the location of the men's room was obvious, i had to ask about five different men where the hell the ladies' room was.
"if they have one, it'll probably be in the back," was the consensus.
and sure enough, as i headed to the back, i spotted the telltale group of women standing in line.
meaning i was gonna have to wait.
[to be continued below...]
*which tends to be considered sf's gay district, but i find that distinction so limiting for so many reasons...