Talking over the cell while in the loo - a 'bunch of crap'

You are at your workplace. Bladder bursting, you trot to the restroom on your floor. Alas! Both are occupied. You wait (im)patiently, tapping your foot to distract yourself from that all those waves of pressure that are hitting you. Causing your toe to curl, and you to cast woebegone looks at the doors. Your bladder threatens to embarrass you any second now, and you wish you had a couch where you could at least plonk and cross your legs, never mind the drama.

And then you stop dead in your tracks. There it was. No, not the warm sensation of you losing control in little short spurts in your pants. Phew!

But a smothered chortle from the closed door on the left.

And a muffled stream of conversation from the door on your right.

You purse your lips, wondering if there was a secret hole between the two adjacent washrooms, which enabled both people inside to exchange niceties while they did their business.

And then it dawns upon you. They were both talking, not to each other (TGFSM), but over their respective phones. This is also the precise moment when your nightmarish time begins - your sphincter warning you not to take the call of Mother Nature lightly while two exasperating people speak animatedly into their mobiles.

Several thoughts cross you mind as you contend with violent cramps...

Would it be rude to rap your knuckles at the locked doors?
Did you want to warrant a kick with your spanking new leather shoes?
Would clearing your throat give a hint to the two inside to step out?

You decide for the last option, clearing your throat in an aggrieved fashion that would have sounded more appropriate in the chambers of a seasoned laryngitis specialist.

Silence.

You wait to hear the welcome flushing sound to trickle into your ears. Some shuffling of feet and a brisk zipping sound of the fly being done up...

No such luck. After 10-seconds, the conversation(s) inside resume(s) from where it / they had been left off – at your all-too-evident and unmistakable throat-clearing. Darn!

You groan – clutching your sides, the call of nature hot on your tail. The last time you had clutched them so tightly was when you had stitches in your side from laughing uncontrollably during a particularly funny episode of your favourite sitcom. Except that that last time had been a pleasurable sensation, as compared to the dreadful one presently that looked intent on making you do what your 6-year old nephew was scolded for – pant-wetting.

After what seems like an eternity, you finally hear the flush. You almost make the exiting individual topple over in your haste to lock the door behind you and sit on the john. Forgetting to give him / her the much-perfected scowl which you thought he / she truly deserved. The startled, still-talking-into-the-mobile dude sails out, talking pointedly about people who could do with some impatience-management. At any other point, you would have stood your ground and retaliated with a seething answer. But today you were just thankful to enter and take that much-needed leak.

Leaving you with the big question...

Why? Why? Why? Why a toilet? For God’s sake? Weren’t there any other places to yap? Had the workplace run out of places where you could ring up people?

I’ve seen people talking over phones and carrying them nonchalantly into the restroom, continuing their conversation and taking care of their business at the same time. Leaving me horrified. Do they even wash up after that? I don't even want to go into that (unwashed) territory...

Just the other day, I was in a theatre, and had to attend to some urgent short business. Right before I could relieve myself, I heard some strains of the latest Bollywood number, and then the sound of a lady answering the ringing phone from the stall adjacent to mine. Now, the call was no emergency I could tell - I overheard Ms Pisser tell another Pisser about the pissing day she had had – in loud and dulcet tones. Well she truly deserved the ‘crappy’ day, pardon the pun, I almost wanted to holler. Especially since after she let out relieved 'ahhs' regularly after each soft but unmistakable 'plop plop,' and passed wind brazenly, the malodour of which caused me to retch and gag, such was the sound and smell show! Blech!

Too bad for her that I flushed noisily when she was about to mouth the second ‘I-lurrrrrve’you’ into her mouthpiece...*evil grin*

I came out repulsed – wondering what was more unacceptable – talking in the loo or talking during a movie?

Don’t people realize know it’s rude? Besides being unhygienic? And gross? All rolled into one.

Or am I missing a pee, oops wee bit here?