I'm a twentysomething white male with ambitions to be a professional film critic and generally spend my days getting paid to watch movies and write about it. I try not to think too hard about how I want to build my life around talking about other people's creations and not mine. A compulsive reader and stubborn cineaste, I take an often contrary stance to my more fundamentalist peers and upbringing by celebrating the pursuit of the good, and the Good, in life, love, art and film. If you watched enough episodes of a few TV shows ("The Hungry and the Hunted," "The Cut Man Cometh," "The Body," "The Zeppo," "Waiting in the Wings," "Out of Gas," "April is the Cruelest Month," "20 Hours in America," "Colonial Day," "An Echolls Family Christmas," and "Look Who's Stalking," for starters), you would understand me completely, and you'd also realize that much of my worldview and philosophical insights are heavily influenced by fictional works/programs, and many of the good things I've said in my life are just a regurgitation of someone else's imaginings. I guess I was made to be a film critic.
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I will kick in the solar plexus the next person who says "dudette" unironically. I realize this means I will probably be delivering my vengeance unto an adult, and a member of a generation currently stranded between the cultural relevance of their children and the deification of their parents.
But please, for the love of all that is good, stop saying "dudette." You sound old, and weird, and just generally creepy and out of touch.
Please stop.
By overwhelming request (which means at least one person), I've created another category for the sidebar, wherein my various bathroom adventures and curiously rigid standards of urinal etiquette will be archived. Here are the quick links anyway:
And now, on to newer matters:
The Buffers
The women's restroom is an orderly place, with a couch and a foyer and full-service deli. But life in the men's room is much more cutthroat. In addition to some of the various rules I've discussed here — e.g., don't speak to me while I'm doing the do — there's an even more basic set of guidelines I feel I should discuss. I speak, of course, of the buffers.
Buffers aren't always necessary: Some groups of urinals have walls separating the individual units, which I'm strongly in favor of, even if it does invite coworkers to stand next to you and start jabbering away. But sometimes I'll walk into a bathroom and see a row of five urinals, no walls between them, and that's when strategy comes into play.
• If possible, there should always be an empty urinal between the one you're using and the one the other guy is using. The empty urinal acts a buffer, ensuring the respect of personal space.
• If you're the only one in the bathroom, always take a urinal that would allow for a buffer if another man came in to use the facilities. For instance: If there are five urinals, you can take urinal 1, 3, or 5, since that would allow two more fellow urinators to have buffers. Taking urinal 2 or 4 is just dumb, man.
• If 1, 3, and 5 are occupied, it's okay to saddle up to 2 or 4, since there's nothing you can do about it. But if, say, only 1 and 3 are occupied, and you slide into the 2 spot, you're violating all kinds of unspoken moral and ethical codes. You should never stand next to a man with his junk exposed unless necessary.
I'm just saying, respect the rules.
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Following on the unwanted heels of parts one and two, I expand the list as follows.
The Sigher
You'd think this is the same as The Groaner, but oh, you'd be wrong. The Groaner elicits full-on throaty growling while he urinates, but The Sigher is much more discreet. While standing before the stall, he'll let out a light sigh, just shy of a moan, and it's genuinely unnerving. Tony, the old man in my office, is a constant sigher, and I'm always worried that the next sigh I hear will be a death rattle.
The Scouter
The Scouter is a crafty public pisser, especially when it comes to the office restroom. If he's looking for a stall, and at least one is occupied, he'll bolt and continue searching for a toilet not in use. The urinals are a different matter: If there are walls between the urinals, then The Scouter will usually use one regardless of whether the others are occupied. But if there are no walls, he might deem the proposition too risky.
The Reader
Many men will take a magazine to the stall, but it's another kind of man altogether that takes reading material on a urinal trip. I've seen it done, too. This guy stood there with a Sports Illustrated in one hand while peeing with the other. I like Rick Reilly as much as the next guy, but seriously, nothing's that compelling.
The Horse Whisperer
This guy can't finish the job of urinating without making little passive-aggressive noises in an effort to get his body to stop the flow. It's not uncommon to be stanidng next to him and hear "hut hut" as he's wrapping up.
The Conference Caller
Simple: This is the guy who answers his phone while at the urinal, which we've all done, since there's something inherently satisfying about the multitasking, not to mention the minor challenge of digging your phone out of your pants without letting them fall while maintaining a constant stream and avoiding a mess. The ballsier Conference Caller will actually place calls while in the bathroom, as if the acoustics and space to think are what he really needed to motivate him to do business by phone.
[Many thanks to The Oldest Guy I Know for assistance with the last two items on the list.]
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I've been in the bathroom, and have actually made some new discoveries.
The Spitter
This guy fascinates me. While standing before the urinal, he'll lean forward slightly and spit into the porcelain, never pausing his flow. Why does he spit? Is he the kind of guy that spits all the time regardless of surrounding or circumstance, and was going to spit anyway, so he decided to do it in the urinal while he's peeing? Or is it some Pavlovian thing, where he started spitting while peeing a long time ago and now couldn't break the habit if he tried? Or does he just like the challenge of the thing, trying to lean and spit without making a mess? Weird.
The Bather
This is the guy who uses the office restroom for all-encompassing general hygiene. You'll almost never see him at a urinal because he's at the long row of sinks brushing his teeth or changing shirts. This is unacceptable.
The Zorro
This is the guy who stands at the urinal with one hand uiding the stream and the other hand clenched in a fist and planted firmly on his waist, as if he's been transported into a swashbuckler epic from the '40s. Not quite as confident as the Freehander, but more arrogant, as if peeing in a urinal is a task worthy of superheroes. Sometimes he whistles.
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I've written here on more than one occasion about the various pitfalls I seem to encounter whenever I use a public restroom, particularly the one at my office. But I realize that many of you (or half of you, anyway) might still be in the dark about a few things. It's with that in mind that I present these brief but hopefully informative psychological sketches of men and the way they handle their business.
The Leaner
This is the guy that can't stand on his own power, as if the act of urinating is also somehow draining him of essential life forces. He will usually rest against the wall by placing his free hand against the area above the urinal, or if he's really tired, lay his entire forearm against the wall and rest his head against it as he urinates. I don't know what happened to this guy psychologically in his youth to make peeing such an exhausting act.
The Groaner
This guy has his own category, though it should be noted that Groaners and Leaners often overlap. But the Groaner has a unique way of dealing with urination, namely, to gently moan as he lets flow. This is almost always disturbing, since the last thing anyone wants while they're peeing is for the guy next to him to start vocalizing. He has the ability to stand on his own, but sometimes the groaning at taking what feels like the world's longest pee is enough to sap his strength, thus turning a Groaner into a Leaner.
The Freehander
This is the major leagues of independent urination. One of my bosses does this, and it's a staggering display of confidence. The Freehander stands before the urinal and pees without using his hands, often turning back and forth slightly in a move known as the "Cincinnati Hosedown." His feet apart, and his hands on his waist (or backward on his hips, like Forrest Gump), the Freehander does his business with cool ease. Not recommended unless you're drunk and/or Jack Nicholson.
The Singer
This is the rarest kind of public pisser, but also the hands-down weirdest. The Singer will, either to get things started or just to pass the time, whistle or sing or hum while doing his business. You'd be tempted to think that such behavior would be a display of stratospheric confidence that would elevate the perpetrator into the Freehander level. But the Groaner Corollary applies: Any talking is bad talking when you've got your piece out. After all, this is a public/office bathroom, not a camping trip. Bad call, Singer.
The Hider
The Hider stands there and urinates quietly, but can be startled like a deer in the headlights if a nearby urinal becomes occupied. This usually only happens in the most confined bathrooms, where only two urinals are mounted on the wall, elevating the risk of having someone come up to you while you're trying to pee, which is really annoying, I mean if we weren't in a bathroom I'd kick the guy right in the throat, can't he see that my pants are undone and I really don't feel like doing any kind of social interaction? The Hider will often seek out a bathroom he knows to be rarely trafficked just to revel in its peace and tranquility.
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I have the good fortune to work with some fairly laid-back people, and though some of them can come unglued pretty quickly in stressful situations, for the most part it's smooth sailing. Unfortunately, this attitude of general pleasantness carries over with some of the men whenever they go the bathroom, which is down the hall. I, it should be pointed out, don't like to talk that much, or at all, when I'm in the bathroom, even when I'm washing my hands, but especially, especially, when I'm actually emptying my bladder. (I haven't yet had the misfortune of someone trying to talk to me while we're sitting in adjacent stalls, since this is an office and not a dorm bathroom, but I'm not ruling the sick possibility out just yet.)As I walked into the bathroom one day I knew I was being closely followed, and as I sidled up to the stall, sure enough, my boss took the urinal next to me. Then he starts going, and he starts talking to me, as well, and all I can think about is (1) how much I don't like making small talk while my pants are unzipped, (2) how I really have a hard time going around other people, especially when they're trying to engage me in conversation, (3) how now I'm not going, since I'm gun-shy and trying to talk and having a difficult time squeezing out drop one, (4) now that I can't go, I wonder if my boss can tell I'm not going, and if he's wondering why I can't go, so now maybe he's just continuing our meager conversation on a superficial level while most of his thoughts are actively trained on just why I seem to be standing in front of a urinal doing exactly nothing, (5) what does it say about me that I allow myself to function daily with this level of neurosis, (6) [fill in the blank with some general doubt about my personality].But he finished, and I managed to go, and that was that. I even managed to act like talking in the bathroom was something I enjoyed, or at least felt comfortable with. But as I washed my hands at the sink farthest from my boss, I realized that next time I had to go, I'd check the crowd first. The men's room one floor down is almost always empty.
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Questions? Comments? Complaints?
Drop 'em in the mailbag.
"The critic is the only independent source of information. The rest is advertising."
— Pauline Kael
"Film lovers are sick people."
— Francois Truffaut
"I hope I strike a blow for chubby bald men everywhere. I hope they rise like an army."
— Paul Giamatti, quoted in the Los Angeles Times, 12/14/04
"Let others praise ancient times, I am glad I was born in these."
— Ovid
Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.
— Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe
Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives.
— John Stuart Mill
We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.
— G.K. Chesterton
We were, for the briefest of moments, something greater than the sum of our uncertain parts; we were youth itself, in all its painful glory and sharp joy.
— Me, Fall 2003
Los Angeles, give me some of you! Los Angeles come to me the way I came to you, my feet over your streets, you pretty town I loved you so much, you sad flower in the sand, you pretty town.
— Ask the Dust, John Fante