Public Restroom Etiquette: Cell Phones

Restrooms are places for the masses. They are places where different cultures, generations, and economic backgrounds come together as equals with one mission in mind—relief. As life evolves into a new digital/cellular age I am often reminded that our level of civility has not matched our level of technological sophistication. 
 

What got me thinking about this topic in depth was a recent trip to the movie theater. It was a Saturday, so the place was packed. I hate crowds, not in the fearful for no reason moronic way, but crowds in public places tend to remind me that our world is going to hell in a hand basket. Where do all these people come from and why don’t I ever see them in my small town? If it isn’t the mom and dad dragging their infant out to the movies at 9:30, it is the guy who is talking like a teenager, wearing his hat backwards over a skull cap, using expletives as part of his standard dialogue, out with his young family, modeling all the wrong behavior—I need blinders I suppose. 

Anyways, another great thing about public places (he said sarcastically) is the prolific use of cell phones. Everyone has a cell phone. I see texting grandmas, 5 year olds calling their bookies, cell phones being passed back and forth between giggling teenagers like a hot potato, and those annoying blue tooth guys that think they are on an episode of Star Trek. Why would anyone need to use a blue tooth at the movies? Once you make that choice as an individual—the one when you decide that having a blue tooth is totally required before you go out in public—we cease to have anything in common.   Now our current set of morals allows for cell phone use out in the open, and I have grown to accept that, but what about the bathrooms?

The men’s room is a place where talking should stop. The noises should be limited to the following: bodily emissions, flushes, the crumpling of paper towels, running water, the pushing of the soap dispenser, the sound of toilet paper being unrolled, and the running of the automatic hand dryer—that’s it. Don’t say hello, don’t say excuse me, don’t make eye contact—think soup Nazi from Seinfeld only no soup (unless that's what you call 'it'). Now, the more I go out in public the more these rules seem to stop being rules, but mere suggestions. Suggestions carry no weight with the youth and that is probably why they were the first demographic to depart from the widely accepted protocol in the men’s room. I see teens high fiving in line to the urinals, kids saying “Sup!” to each other as they wash their hands, twenty-somethings taking and placing cell phone calls, and idiots at the urinals talking on Bluetooths (teeth?). 

I think the most reprehensible of all of these offenses clearly is the Bluetooth urinator. I think if there were punishments given out for people who do not follow the rules in public restrooms the Bluetooth urinator would get the gas chamber. Why do this? Do want other males to think you are crazy? This kind of behavior could start a riot. Let’s say you are on a call at the urinal using your Bluetooth and saying things like, “Hey babbbby!” or “How you doing over there?” you may end up getting the beat down of your life—so why not leave the thing in your car where it belongs?

Now, cell phones are everywhere, like I discussed already, and the use of them in the john is becoming more and more widely accepted—but this has got to stop. I know the following experience. This tirade about all stemmed from me mentioning something about going to the movies on a recent Saturday. My wife and I were meeting people there, and they were running just behind us. After purchasing the tickets, I realized that dinner wasn’t sitting so well and wanted to evacuate the building which is my stomach. I told my wife to save seats for everyone, as I handed her my jacket, I was going to look out for our friends—after I took care of some business. 

The restroom line was filled with annoying people breaking the ‘rules.’ Stoic like a statue, I kept silent and waited my turn. Finally, a stall opened that didn’t have a pot filled with stew or a seat coated with pee. A brief aside—what is this amateur hour peeing on the seat nonsense anyway? Anyways, my stall required a little tidying but nothing ridiculous—I could conduct business there. Shortly after settling into a nice B.M. my cell phone rings. NO! What was I to do? I may very well be only in the beginning stages of a lengthy episode; do I take the call—break the code of silence? My moral aptitude wasn’t prepared for this brainteaser. Do I ignore my friends and let them think we forgot them? Do I take the call while going #2 in a public restroom? Your instinct is deft and almost instinctual when met with a ringing phone, it is very, very difficult to ignore it. We are taught/programmed to answer phones, not let them ring. What is worse? A ringing phone in public restroom or a guy talking quietly to himself in a stall? All these questions were bumping around in my head and before I could think any further I took action to silence my phone and take the call. Much to my dismay, as I took the call and started talking mid-movement a voice from outside my stall asked, “Joe? Is that you?” Another member of the group I was meeting up with was in the bathroom and ignoring the rules—he said my name aloud. Now, upon hearing the friend in the bathroom call my name I hung up the phone. I now needed to save the friend of mine in the bathroom from further embarrassment or an ass whooping for breaking ‘the rules.’ After rushing through the remainder of my session, I joined my friend who was inexplicably waiting for me in the restroom. After washing our hands and heading out of the restroom, I explained ‘the rules’ to my clueless friend. Apparently, the rules had never been explained to them and they were basically socially inept. They thanked me for their lesson and we all enjoyed the movie—the end.  

Those are the rules. Carry on.

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