I nodded to my buddy as I walked out the office door and into the hallway. He looked at me as if he had something to say, but I hurried past. After two, 32-ounce cups of water, I was intent on getting to the restroom before I wet myself.

I hurried inside as the door closed behind me and sucked the last of the fresh air out of the room with a woosh. The air inside smelled of rancid vanilla and bleach and I held my breath as I neared the urinal.

I’m not the most social of people and even though I tend to favor walls and couches at parties, I still find the ability to converse with those around me. But when it comes to public urination, I wholeheartedly prefer to stand alone.

I learned of dudeiquette (dude-etiquette) while in the Army and since my induction, I follow my training to a “T”. I make no exceptions. I refuse to go outside the lines or bend the rules. I don’t pilot flights over the no-fly zone. I’m a straight shooter and that’s it.

One of the major dudeiquettes is the dudeiquette rule of restroom spaciousness. This rule states that men, when entering a restroom, must leave at least one urinal or stall between the other man/men in the room. For the most part this is easily achievable, but a few exceptions exist.

I will describe two such exceptions here:

Exception #1: If the restroom houses an odd number of body-waste receptacles (in this example I’ll use three) and two of said receptacles are occupied in accordance with proper dudeiquette, the next man to enter the restroom must wait until one of the odd-numbered receptacles is vacated.

Never during this waiting-period should the waiter look at the backs of the disposers. Nor should the waiter turn his back and look at the disposer in the mirror. This dudeiquette rule provides a safe-disposal environment for any man who may or may not have a block against social-urination.

Exception #2: If the restroom in question houses the infamous trough-urination system, space equal to the width of one 300 pound man should be left between each disposer at the trough. This provides a space equal to that of an odd-numbered receptacle restroom.

In the instance that a social-urination challenged man needs to dispose, this man must wait for a closed-boxed receptacle to vacate. Or, if possible, this man should first inebriate himself before attempting the trough-urination system.

Remember, to avoid confrontations or envy, the eyes at all times are straight forward and never down.

I released my breath as I disposed. With my free hand I pulled my shirt up over my nose as a sort of make-shift filter. It didn’t work.

The door opened and a man walked in and placed his tattered black-leather briefcase on the counter behind me. The door wooshed and he stepped next to me with a zip and a sigh. I rolled my eyes, first rule of dudeiquette neglected.

I held my tongue, but only because I needed my mouth for channeling my breath away from my nose.

I finished my disposal and became the next to break dudeiquette as I looked up when the man next to me emitted a low-pitch rumble. I felt myself the bigger man and provided him a courtesy-flush as he emitted not once, but twice more.

He seemed sure of himself as he smirked at me in the mirror while I washed my hands. I nodded to him in the mirror and exited the restroom.

I stopped to check for new mail and as I walked back to the office I passed him in the hall.

He stood by the elevators, his tattered briefcase in his hand and a slight smirk across his face. His smirk widened as I passed, my cell-phone vibrating noisily in my back-pocket.

It’s then I noticed the vibrating of my phone sounded oddly similar to the sound I’d assumed he’d emitted in the restroom.

Dudeiquette aside, I now felt the idiot.

[675]

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