Waiting in line is the true test of a person’s personality

This Friday Ian and I headed down to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica for some food and window shopping.  At some point we needed to use the restroom and happened to be in front of a Starbucks.  We went in and discovered that the Starbucks bureaucracy required you to buy something to get access to the door code to open the restroom door.  Considering we were a little thirsty and the nearest free restroom was a few blocks away, we decided to purchase a beverage.  We got in line behind the two slowest customers in the world – one told the barista her life story and then asked about his and the other customer carefully studied each of the sixteen different tea flavors before selecting one.  This was annoying since we still had to use the restroom, but manageable.  At last we were able to purchase our drink and get the door code.  And then…the bathroom was out of toilet paper.  Argh.

We then went back to the sales line to ask the cashier for some toilet paper. We followed the cashier to the bathroom and a very large, very obnoxious lady cut us off and slipped in the door.  This royally bugged me, because she would not have been able to actually use the facilities if not for Ian and me securing the crucial t.p.  Then she proceeded to take then minutes in there.  Ten!  I don’t care what you need to do in there, but in a public restroom you need to be in and out, especially when there is a line forming.  Obviously this was very frustrating, as Ian and I still needed to go.

As we waited, a very large, very obnoxious man came and planted himself by the restroom door.  “Someone’s in there,” Ian said, as a way of claiming our spot in line.

“I know, she’s my wife” he said, with full-on jerk scowl.  Another man came and stood behind Ian and I and asked us, “Is someone in there?”  Very large, very obnoxious man (VLVOM) turned and said snidely, “Yes.  She’ll be coming right out.”

Oh, I didn’t know that he was her personal mind reader and could predict his wife’s every movement.  I was unimpressed.  After five minutes (which is a long time of waiting when you really, really have to go), the man behind us started shuffling his feet.  He stomped and stamped and bent his knees and started breathing heavy.  His dance resembled that of a two year old, and he obviously needed to go very badly.  “Um, are you sure someone is in there?” he asked.

VLVOM turned around again and said, “Yes.  She’s coming out right now.”  Once again, he said it very condescendingly.  Five minutes later the door cracked and the woman came out.  And then VLVOM cut us off and went into the restroom!  Holy cow was I steamed.  The old guy behind us was pacing now, bouncing up and down and looking pale.

“You can go ahead of us,” Ian said.

“Really?”  He looked like we had just told him he won the lottery.

“Sure.”

“Okay, great.  I promise I’ll be quick.  I won’t even wash my hands.”

I am a giant germaphobe, so I started panicking.  “Oh no, that’s okay.  Wash your hands.”

“Nah,” he said.  “It’s not like I’m touching anything but myself.”

Ick.  Way too much information.  I suppressed a frown, Ian suppressed a laugh.  VLVOM exited the restroom with a grunt.  Nervous, jumpy man entered.

Ian and I waited.  Eventually the jumpy man walked out, wiping his hands on his pants (shudder) and we were able to use the restroom.  All’s well that end’s well, but I now have a new personality test for people – how you react when waiting in line is the new gauge of a person’s character.

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