The toilet papers: Proving you are legally allowed to use the men's room
by John MacBeath Watkins
The man in a dark suit stopped me outside the restroom door.
:"Excuse me, but do you intend to use the men's room?" he asked.
"Yes, and I'm in a bit of an urgent state," I replied.
"This will only take a moment, I just need to see a notarized copy of your birth certificate."
"Look, I'm about to drop a load in my drawers, I don't have time for this."
He gave me a superior smile.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you must provide proof of your gender at birth, sir...if that's really your gender."
"What? Who the hell are you, anyway?"
He flashed a badge.
"Bathroom gender enforcement, sir. I'm afraid I can't let you in without proof of gender at birth."
"Who the hell carries their birth certificate around all the time?"
"People who desire to use a bathroom of appropriate gender, sir."
"Look, if you're worried about my gender, I suppose you could have a gander at my genitals."
He smiled thinly.
"I'm afraid that just won't do, sir. Your, ah, equipment could have been altered at any time by a competent surgeon and augmented by ingesting hormones."
"Look, I'm desperate here, Can't you let me use the men's just this once without ID? I promise I'll have a copy of my birth certificate next time."
"Next time is just not good enough, sir. We require proof, and no exceptions."
"Oh, God! My bowels just let go!"
"No need to announce it, sir, my olfactory organs are in full working order."
"Now I need to get in so I can clean up."
"Nice try," he scoffed. "We've seen this act before. You are not getting into the men's by doing this."
"But I'm not acting! Haven't you humiliated me enough? I've got to go back to work, and how will I explain this?"
"That is not within my remit. You may offer any explanation you wish."
"Dammit, I'm going in!" I yelled, trying to push past him. He put me in a hammer lock, then handcuffed me to the doorknob.
"I've got a Number Two here, a bathroom resistor," he said into a microphone on his lapel, "better send the wagon."
Just then, a woman walked up.
"Do you wish to use the women's room?" the bathroom monitor asked her.
"No, I need the men's," she replied. She pulled out a birth certificate.
He briefly inspected her papers, then said, "You may proceed." Then he left to intercept an elderly woman with a walker who was trying to get into the women's room.
As she passed by me, the woman who had showed her toilet papers leaned close and whispered, "It's a forgery! I'm really a woman," Then smiled and passed through the men's room door.
The man in a dark suit stopped me outside the restroom door.
:"Excuse me, but do you intend to use the men's room?" he asked.
"Yes, and I'm in a bit of an urgent state," I replied.
"This will only take a moment, I just need to see a notarized copy of your birth certificate."
"Look, I'm about to drop a load in my drawers, I don't have time for this."
He gave me a superior smile.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you must provide proof of your gender at birth, sir...if that's really your gender."
"What? Who the hell are you, anyway?"
He flashed a badge.
"Bathroom gender enforcement, sir. I'm afraid I can't let you in without proof of gender at birth."
"Who the hell carries their birth certificate around all the time?"
"People who desire to use a bathroom of appropriate gender, sir."
"Look, if you're worried about my gender, I suppose you could have a gander at my genitals."
He smiled thinly.
"I'm afraid that just won't do, sir. Your, ah, equipment could have been altered at any time by a competent surgeon and augmented by ingesting hormones."
"Look, I'm desperate here, Can't you let me use the men's just this once without ID? I promise I'll have a copy of my birth certificate next time."
"Next time is just not good enough, sir. We require proof, and no exceptions."
"Oh, God! My bowels just let go!"
"No need to announce it, sir, my olfactory organs are in full working order."
"Now I need to get in so I can clean up."
"Nice try," he scoffed. "We've seen this act before. You are not getting into the men's by doing this."
"But I'm not acting! Haven't you humiliated me enough? I've got to go back to work, and how will I explain this?"
"That is not within my remit. You may offer any explanation you wish."
"Dammit, I'm going in!" I yelled, trying to push past him. He put me in a hammer lock, then handcuffed me to the doorknob.
"I've got a Number Two here, a bathroom resistor," he said into a microphone on his lapel, "better send the wagon."
Just then, a woman walked up.
"Do you wish to use the women's room?" the bathroom monitor asked her.
"No, I need the men's," she replied. She pulled out a birth certificate.
He briefly inspected her papers, then said, "You may proceed." Then he left to intercept an elderly woman with a walker who was trying to get into the women's room.
As she passed by me, the woman who had showed her toilet papers leaned close and whispered, "It's a forgery! I'm really a woman," Then smiled and passed through the men's room door.
When the men's room is occupied, it is sometimes expedient to identify as a woman.
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