To Pee or Not to Pee

Last Saturday, Melanie and I went to a movie in Provo. As lame a choice as Provo may seem, we found it fun to have a change of scenery, even if we were doing something as routine as dinner and a movie. While I had an enjoyable evening, I must say that I was not overly impressed with the theater itself. Arriving quite close to the time the movie was set to begin, I was desperate to quickly locate and utilize the men’s room. While the particular movie we were attending was playing in one of the farthest rooms from the lobby—and given the modernity of the theater, this was quite a ways away—I did not think this would be a problem. After all, most movie theaters have no less than two restrooms for each gender. Surely there would be a restroom very near my particular theater, and all would be well.

The movie theater is setup sort of like a square. That is to say, you could go around and around and around the halls of the theater without ever stopping or backtracking. For convenience’s sake, I have included a crude diagram of the theater’s layout (see Figure 1 below—you may also click on the image to see a larger version). The numbers on this diagram will refer to key locations involved in my story. The letters designate the items in red. These also play into the story, though not quite as pivotally. You may find it helpful to refer back to the diagram often.


Figure 1

Anyhoo, as I said, the particular room my movie was playing in was in the back of the theater (see #1). While I knew there were restrooms available in the lobby, I was sure the back hall would also include restrooms. Heading into the back hall, I immediately saw overhead a sign (see Item A) advertising the women’s room available directly to my left (see #2). As common sense would have it, I assumed a men’s room would be available either on the opposite wall directly across from the women’s room (see #3) or just down the hall on the same wall as the women’s room. I continued my search, but found nothing. No signs to guide me, and no restroom doors to welcome me. Time was ticking, and I was ready to wet myself. Frustrated, I turned and headed back down the left hall, hoping I would see a restroom I hadn’t noticed on my initial journey to the theater.

I quickly spied a handicap, unisex restroom to my right (see #4)—or, to be more politically correct, a restroom for persons who are handicapped and/or unisex. Cursed! Someone was already in there! Whether he/she was handicapped and/or unisex, I will never know. I continued my brisk pace, ever drawing nearer to the lobby. Nothing! No restrooms! Finally I had come to the lobby and resorted to using the restrooms there (see #5). Luckily, nobody stood beside me as I used one of the six shallow, crowded, and coverage-lacking urinals. Not an enjoyable experience.

Heading back to my theater, I felt determined to see if this establishment truly had only one restroom for men, though it clearly had two for women. I headed down the right-side hall with little expectation of discovering anything. As I again reached the back hall, I saw before me, on what appeared to be a broom closet door tucked discreetly into the corner (see #6), the image of a faceless, handless, and footless human being whose head floated slightly above its broad and stiff body. That’s right, it was the men’s room logo. How could I have missed it? I looked above me to see if, like the women’s room at the opposite end of the hall, there would be a sign advertising the existence of this elusive lavatory. No such thing. I quickly deciphered why I had not been able to spot the restroom when coming from the opposite direction. There, just to the left of the restroom door, was a large, cardboard movie advertisement (see Item B), a convex monstrosity that perfectly obscured the view of any male seeking the same urinary relief I had sought. “Screw this theater!” methought.

To end on a slightly happier note, once the movie was over, the theater again demonstrated its lack of impressiveness, though luckily not directly at me. The film we had watched had scenes running throughout the end credits. Thus, most audience members had either remained in their seats or lollygagged their way out of the theater. When the movie had fully and completely ended, the lights immediately came back on. The theater’s small entourage of pockmarked and pubescent employees stood poised at the bottom of the stadium-seating stairs, eager to begin their quasi-cleaning of the theater. Two couples were still seated in the front row, hardly having had time to even attempt standing up, when the first theater employee asked quite nonchalantly, “Could you please leave now?” Needless to say, the foursome was annoyed. One of them was heard to quip something along the lines of, “Gee, I’ve never been kicked out of a theater in my entire life!” Luckily, Melanie and I had just stood up and were able to avoid a good scorning. Alas, the only thumbs up this theater should expect are those of a proctological nature. But at least we enjoyed the movie!