Running with Scissors

Sara Peterson-Davis has worked as a newspaper researcher and reporter, as well as a communications director and consultant. She and her husband, Monty Davis, can be found in Liberty, Mo., keeping their two children from running with scissors. Contact Sara

Flushed Away

by Sara Peterson-Davis

I’ve never been one to stand on formality.

I’m not really sure what side the fork is supposed to go on when a table is set properly, but I do have a rudimentary sense of decorum.

So that’s why I want to know when it became perfectly polite to talk to someone on your cell phone while sitting in a public restroom?

I simply didn’t believe it when people claimed they had relatives, co-workers and friends who multi-tasked in this particular way. That was until I ran into a sit-and-run cell phone conversationalist last week.

Now, I’m used to women conversing in bathrooms. It’s not unusual to have a couple of women walk into the most crowded of public bathrooms and carry on perfectly fluid conversations between their stalls.

This would no doubt cause Miss Manners all sorts of conniption fits, but most women don’t seem to pay these chats any mind. It’s just one of those girl things.

But this talking on your cell phone in the bathroom is something else all together. When I walk into a public bathroom with a friend, we both know where we are. But when you’re on the other end of the cell phone, you could be dragged into some awkward moments through no fault of your own.

The other day I was at the grocery store when I had to make a pit stop. Walking into the bathroom I heard a woman’s voice coming from one of the three stalls. A quick peek showed that, until I walked in, she was the only one there.

For a split second I thought she might be saying something to me, but then I realized she was either talking on a cell phone or having a psychotic episode.

“Can you believe it? (pause) Me either. (pause) No, that’s what she said. (pause)”

At first I thought she might be using the stall as her own personal phone booth. That was until I heard her unfurl the toilet paper and wrestle with some clothing. Ugh!

But neither seemed to be a conversation stopper.

“I think she’s going over there tonight. (pause) No, I can’t. I have to work. (extended pause) I’m working clear until Sunday. (pause) You should come by. (pause)”

Meanwhile, without either end of a conversation to hold up, I had finished my business in record time.

Then I evidently broke some unwritten cell phone rule of bathroom etiquette. I flushed.

“What did you say? Gawd! I couldn’t hear you. Somebody flushed.”

Huh? What was I supposed to do? Wait until the conversation was finished?

By admitting that she couldn’t hear because a toilet had gone off, I realized the person on the other end was at least somewhat comfortable conversing with someone who was taking a call of nature at that same time. Isn’t that what call waiting is for?

As I washed my hands, I imagined the person on the other end sitting in a similar situation in some shopping mall in Oregon or Arkansas. Maybe they just called each other to pass the time. Isn’t that what magazines are for?

I took an extra long time drying my hands, hoping to get a look at my talkative bathroom buddy. She didn’t seem to be budging. Whereas I would have accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet by now, she kept right on talking.

Now, I know that technology is freeing us to go and do things that we’ve never done before. But it’s also blurring the lines between what is private and what is public.

I just hope that some people never get their hands on videophones.

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