Ladies in waiting

Ladies in Waiting
by
Ruth Lampert
Copyright Ruth Lampert 2008

Anyone who says it's hard to make friends in Los Angeles has never stood in line to the Ladies Room during an intermission and experienced the intense female bonding which ensues. . For those anatomically prevented from bring privy to this activity (males) – here is how it goes: You remain in your seat in the theater until the applause has subsided, and then clamber up, down, across, or over toward your destination, utilizing all deliberate speed without, you hope, appearing frantic.


Your heart sinks as you approach the foyer and see ten ladies queued up. In the foyer, for God's sake! How many women are in line inside? How many stalls are there? The answer to the first question is "far too many;" to the second, "far too few."


Now the bonding ritual starts, with the standard opening:
"If women designed these buildings, there'd be twice as many stalls in the Ladies Room," followed by: "There'd be twice as many Ladies Rooms!" Heads nod knowingly, affirmatively.


Stage two begins when someone – perhaps you - asks, "So, what
do you think about the play/concert/lecture so far?”


Here the potential or lack of it, for deeper relationships emerges. There are those in that line who simply don't get it, and while they may be nice enough in their own way you know they are not persons you really care to cultivate. There are others who show promise of aesthetic compatibility. You make eye contact with a lady who appears, by her bearing, to be a person of breeding and good taste. If she responds with a quote from your favorite critic, you know you have made a connection.


But nothing promotes bonding like having a common enemy. At the sound of the chimes signaling only five minutes more of intermission, a chorus of anguished, outraged voices is raised.


"What? It will take at least 10 minutes for all of us to get out of here!"
"They're just trying to intimidate us; they wouldn't dare begin with this many still in line!"


"By God, I'm going to write to the management!"
"I'll e-mail my congresswoman!"
And so on and so forth.


Now critical analyses of the first half of the performance evolve to deeper intimacy with the sharing of urological experiences involving pregnancy, bladder surgery, and the efficacy of cranberry juice.


There have been poignant moments too. After having the same concert seats for many seasons, last year we sent our order in late and were assigned to a different location. We were not the only ones unsettled by this dislocation; in the line to the Ladies Room I met the woman who had been my former seat neighbor.
"Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" she cried, "we thought something must have happened to you folks. Is your husband alright?"


Had there not been a line, she might be worrying still.
Men typically don't experience either this tortuous waiting or cozy camaraderie. I do recall a concert a while back of big band music from the 40's, where to my surprise my husband's pit stop was longer than mine. As I waited for him (a first in this situation) I noticed that most of the men had gray or white hair, if any. They were all over 60. That explained it. I don't know if any friendships were formed, but what a networking opportunity for a urologist.


Actually the Ladies Room line was professionally useful to me too. When discussing psychological aspects of a play, for example, it sometimes leaked out (no pun intended) that I was a professional psychotherapist, and those who shared my viewpoint sometimes asked for a business card. I did not receive any direct responses to this kind of outreach, but I did once receive a call from a prospective client who said, "I found your business card on top of the tissue holder in the Ladies Room at the Music Center. I was impressed with your marketing ingenuity and thought you might help me deal with some of my frustrations starting a new business.

And besides, a therapist who goes to the opera is a therapist I can relate to."


Doesn't it seem that would have made the cost of the tickets tax-deductible? My accountant said "don't even think about it."