My friend Krista was in town this weekend, so last night a group of us headed to an Indian restaurant for dinner together. Because I have a bladder the approximate size of a golf ball, as soon as we arrived, I cruised to the bathroom.
There were two (one for the men, one for the ladies) but they were of the single room variety, where you lock the door behind you rather than seal yourself into a stall.
So imagine my surprise when – after locking the door – I found myself facing THIS arrangement:
I’ve seen some crazy bathrooms in my day (one word: Italy) but this was by far the most thought provoking.
We spent a fair amount of time hypothesizing.
Someone suggested that since women DO go to the bathroom in pairs, this might be a logical (but misguided) accommodation. Then Alan checked out the men’s room and found it featured the same layout, so that theory was shot.
Definitely odd. It gave rise to the following discussion:
“Can you imagine if the door didn’t lock and someone came in and sat across from you?”
“That would be the most awkward eye contact ever.”
“Or worse – in the men’s room, if you’re sitting and a guy comes it and stands at the other one so you’re staring at his ass?”
“That’s third-eye contact.”
Sarah offered a more cerebral interpretation: “Maybe it’s like a psychology test, and the toilet you choose says something about you.” We all then confirmed that we had selected the one on the wall with the door so that if someone walked in, we wouldn’t be staring out into the restaurant. Does that mean we’re smart or paranoid?
I had a brief flashback to my moment talking business under a stall with a client last week and realized this seating arrangement really could’ve done a lot to hasten negotiations. And taken awkward to a whole new level.
Anyway. The food came and it was fantastic, but rather hot. Eyes were tearing up and people were mopping perspiration from their foreheads. We went through a record amount of tap water.
“Now I know why they have the double toilets,” someone commented.
“Because you drink so much water you won’t be able to wait for anyone else to finish?” someone asked.
“Or in case you need to both throw-up and crap your brains out simultaneously?” someone else suggested.
“Well, there’s that. But I was thinking more along the lines of someone needing a coach in there to offer words of encouragement.”
“Or reaching across to join hands in prayer.”
By the time the check arrived, we’re completely spiraled out of control, and I’m pretty sure at least one person got reprimanded after the fact for allowing the dinner conversation to end up in the (ahem) toilet.
In retrospect, it seems like an odd bit of foreshadowing the the spiciest dish we tried was called Vinda-loo.
That, or the chef has a keen since of humor.
pithypants 
Its good to see that everyone still is as classy as ever… LOL