When You Gotta Go

On being permitted, and denied, the use of a bathroom

In Bryant Park, Manhattan, New York, virtually majestic (Wikimedia)

Years ago, I came up with a definition of a good job: “a job in which you do not have to deny a person the use of a bathroom.”

I had a part-time job in a bookstore. On instructions from the manager, we were not allowed to let anyone use our bathroom. But when she (the manager) was absent from the store, we did.

We used discretion, of course. We did not say to an obvious madman, “Sure, be our guest!” (Although maybe one should placate a madman?) But when a little old lady is standing in front of you, crossing her legs ...

I hoped I would never again be in a job where I had to deny a person the use of a bathroom. When the manager was there and I had to say no to someone—I felt somehow less than human.

You know where it’s very, very hard to find a bathroom? New York. New York City. People who live here have tales to tell. In almost no establishment are you permitted to use the bathroom.

I understand why. There are street people. There are mentally ill. There are throngs of tourists. One has to be wise, one has to be prudent. I truly understand.

But it’s so human, this issue—this, you know: need. It’s painfully, starkly human. Anyone can relate.

A sure and welcome refuge for someone who has to use the bathroom is a public library. In fact, that bookstore I worked at, eons ago? It was in a shopping center where there was a public library. We could simply direct people to the library.

Which was not so bad.

Well, I want to tell you a couple of stories—New York stories.

On the West Side, there’s a public library I’ve stopped in at a few times. Not to peruse or borrow books.

A couple of years ago, I had to go—bad—and the one public bathroom was closed, for maintenance reasons. There is a bathroom right next to it: “Employees Only,” the sign says. I asked to use it. “It’ll just take a minute,” I said.

No, they said.

This did not seem to me human. I tried to reason with the librarian in charge. She said, “There are cameras here, and they’ll see that I let you use the employees’ bathroom.”

I guess the “they” was people at headquarters or something.

Fast forward to the other week. Again, I had to go—bad. Now, this public library closes at 7. But they lock the bathroom at 6:45.

I hit the door of the library at, like, 6:45 sharp. I could see the security guard, locking the bathroom. Breathlessly, I said to him, “It’ll be less than a minute, I swear. Please.”

He said, in essence, that he didn’t want to get in trouble. I had to talk to the librarian in charge—which I did.

I appealed to her humanity, fruitlessly. She said she had to follow the rules. And the rules say the bathroom must be locked at 6:45.

I like rules. I am a rule-follower, which is part of my conservatism. In the phrase “ordered liberty,” the noun is important, but so is the adjective.

The rule, however, is sometimes “a ass—a idiot.” (That’s Mr. Bumble, in Oliver Twist.) Sometimes a rule has to give way to humanity.

Or so I think.

The use of a bathroom is a serious issue in New York. Church members have been known to fight about it.

I have a friend whose former place of employment is in Midtown. Way up high in a building. Sometimes, when in the neighborhood, he has to go—and he calls and says, “Could I come up?”

Again, I am full of sympathy for shopkeepers, librarians, et al. It can be very, very hard to deal with the public, and the public in New York can be challenging indeed. “Safety first,” I say. And there is no room for naivety in the Big City.

But there has to be an answer, somehow.

A week or two ago, some friends of mine who live elsewhere were snickering over New York’s new mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Some of the snickering, I could snicker along with. But not on one issue.

That issue? Let me quote from a mayoral press release:

TODAY, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani announced the city is launching a new program to expand access to public bathrooms across the city, committing $4 million to a Request for Proposals (RFP) for high-quality modular public restrooms.

I think we need lots of those suckers.

May I tell you something? This has been a candid column already—perhaps even giving TMI (too much information). In my 30 or so years here, I have seen lots of men whiz in the streets, and even defecate. It’s disgusting. But I feel for them—there’s nowhere to go.

I want to say one more time—forgive my repetition—that I understand full well that restaurateurs and others are under pressure. They are besieged, or at least importuned. And they’re not in the bathroom business! That’s not what they signed up for! Their bathrooms are for their customers (and employees)!

But the need for a bathroom is so very human, and universally so. And you can’t carry one around with you, like a wallet.

In a number of eateries here in the city, there is a bathroom, requiring a code to open the door. The code is on your receipt when you buy something. Often, New Yorkers buy something for the sake of being able to use the bathroom.

After my latest library experience, I rushed into a Starbucks and said to the young man behind the counter, “I’m going to buy something, but would you mind giving me the code first? It’s kind of an emergency.”

He said, “You don’t need to buy anything.” And he gave me the code.

I went. When I returned, I bought something anyway. And I tipped him—disproportionately, so to speak. Very much so.

Looking straight at him, I said, “You’re a good man.” I said it again. He smiled.