Why should I wait?

(Thanks for the inspiration, AJ)

A few weeks ago, I was out with my parents and we stopped to eat. After we ordered, I got up to use the restroom and wash up before dinner. The restrooms were in an alcove, the men's on the left and the women's on the right. The door to the women's restroom was closed and the men's was open. I scoped out the men's room: it was a single person facility. I glanced to the right, but the women's door was still shut. There might have been some rustling from within, but I wasn't certain and I didn't feel like harassing someone unnecessarily by knocking or trying the handle.

I stepped into the men's room and closed the door, sliding the simple but trustworthy bolt lock into place. The slightly distorted urine smell common to all men's rooms that I've encountered permeated the small space. Must be from the urinal, I thought to myself.

As I pulled off some toilet paper, the door handle started to jiggle. The bolt was secure, so the door couldn't open, but it could move a hair because it wasn't latched. I was pretty sure it was my dad, but I didn't feel like saying anything in case it wasn't. I figured the guy would hear the flush and figure out someone was inside. The door jiggled again. Geez, give it a rest.

I stretched out my leg and flushed the toilet with the sole of my shoe. I turned on the water, soaped up, scrubbed, and rinsed my hands. With my elbow I depressed the lever for the paper towel roll. I dried my hands and then got another piece of paper towel to shut off the faucet and open the door. When I stepped out, there was no one in the hall. The women's door was still closed, so I figured the guy had decided to use it instead of wait.

I walked back to our table and caught the end of a conversation my parents were having. "Do you see that guy at the end of the bar?" my mom asked.

Dad looked past me and said, "I didn't see him come in."

She continued, "Neither did I. He came out of nowhere. Maybe it was him."

My Dad got up and walked back towards the restrooms.

I could see where this was going. "What were you guys talking about?" I asked.

"Oh, we were just waiting to see if a man came out from the restroom."

"He could have been waiting a long time," I began. "I was in there."

Mom looked up at me and laughed.

"I heard him jiggle the handle. I figured he'd hear the water running and figure out someone was inside," I explained. "He didn't even wait."

"I know," Mom said shaking her head, "Your father just got all embarrassed because he felt like the door was stuck and he was doing something wrong," my mom explained.

"Didn't it occur to him that someone might be inside?"

"He's a man. He's not used to having to wait for the restroom."

I laughed and argued, "But by coming back to the table, someone else could get in next ahead of him. It's conceivable that the door could be closed each time he got up to check it all through dinner."

"I know," Mom sighed. "When your father's uncomfortable or embarrassed, he folds his arms and tries to fade into the background."

I knew what she said was true. When they'd visit my dorm room at college, Mom would sit on my bed and Dad would stand next to the door. His arms weren't always folded, but he rarely sat down and only would if it was in my desk chair.

Dad slid into the booth next to Mom.

"Guess who was in the men's room," Mom demanded with a smirk.

Dad looked at her and then me in confusion.

"It was Claire," she announced triumphantly.

"Oh?"

He was surprised and still a bit confused. Clearly, the why-wait-when-a-single-person-restroom-is-available? approach was one that never would have occurred to him.