All the girls standing in the line at the bathroom...

Waiting in line at the girls bathroom at a bar can be a very stressful situation. I never really paid much attention to the emotionally-charged dynamic of the bathroom (probably because I'm too drunk to notice or care), but this weekend in AC helped bring some of the ridiculousness of the girls' bathroom to light.

The bathroom is like the unregulated section of the bar - there are no bouncers, employees or any form of security within eye-distance (except for the occasional powerless lady that hands out paper towels). In crowded bars where girls have to wait on line before getting into the bathroom, drunk females are responsible for having enough integrity to not cut in line or to not make obnoxious comments when someone is in the bathroom for 30 seconds longer than one female thinks the other should spend in the stall.  If these few simple rules are not followed, the actions are met with several consequences that can range from dirty looks to screaming matches to the physical expression of female anger - the hair-pulling-and-scratching cat fight (all of which I have witnessed).

Then there are the less interesting, miscellaneous actions of crying (and the resulting consoling by a fellow female) and vomiting that also occurs in the bathroom.  Occasionally, a female will be friendly enough to another to let you know that there is no more toilet paper in the stall, or that she thinks something about your outfit/hair/makeup/face is cute, but more often than not, the interactions are negative.

A recent example of a negative interaction in the bathroom of an AC club:
A girl, wearing something she ought not to be wearing (i.e. a dress that is so short, that it probably is meant to be worn as a shirt) is washing her hands, while her dress is constantly moving higher and higher up her thighs.

Lady handing out paper towels: Excuse me, miss?
Inappropriately-dressed female: Yeah? (acting clearly annoyed)
Lady handing out paper towels: Your dress is riding up.
Inappropriately-dressed female to friend: (rolling eyes and with an extreme attitude) Who does this b--- think she is? My mother?

I would have interjected at this moment in the lady's defense and to tell this girl that "no, she's not your mother, but I applaud her for figuring out a polite way to tell you how ridiculous you look," but had I done that, one of the aforementioned negative consequences most likely would have ensued.  Getting into an unnecessary, drunken fight in the girls' bathroom at the age of 27, would probably have meant that I have just hit a low point in my life...and that is currently, not a part of my '30 Things To Do Before I'm 30' list.