After a certain age in the male of our species, the word prostate tends to take on a special meaning, and men begin to develop their own internal GPS (Geographical Planning System) based on proximity to a toilet.
At a recent gathering, one of my friends told me he'd seen a local production of the semi-musical comedy "1776."
"How did you like it?" I asked.
"First act was one hour and forty-five minutes long."
He had given me essential information, and I appreciated having it. Then we forged ahead with a chat about the production. His response reminded me of the night in the theatre when the Globe Theatre of London was presenting "Twelfth Night." I had had a couple of drinks beforehand, but when the first act went past an hour and a half, I began to be concerned, and then I went into the standard drill - cross the legs tight, think about anything no liquid, bite the inside of the cheeks, hope, pray...the usual.
At the one hour and fifty two minute mark, the applause began, and I set the Guthrie Theatre World Record for the Men's Room Dash.
Anyway, in geezerhood, one measures one's intake against "porcelain proximity," and one takes advantage of every opportunity to lighten up.
When the my hip was deteriorating, I came to appreciate bathrooms for the handicapped - they are sometimes near than regular conveniences, and thus, more convenient. I have been known to utilize a one person women's facility when the men's was occupied, locked, and the need was great.
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