Urinal Etiquette

A friend of mine was talking about a violation of "urinal etiquette," wherein a guy pulled up close when there was room for a space between the two.  It reminded me of a great story about such a violation of etiquette when I was in high school, probably my senior year:

I have always been comfortable with people who enjoy putting on plays; probably because I was dressed up, and dragged to the Vallejo Symphony, and the Mira Guild Players.  By dressed up, I mean a kid's suit (I was like seven when this started), white shirt, tie, and dress shoes and socks, the very image of an audience member in the late 1950's, just in miniature.  As much as I tried to hate getting "dolled-up" and spending an evening of cultural enrichment, I couldn't.  The music, Mozart, Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, Handel, and so many other masterpieces captured my imagination, and took me to places I'd never been.  The stage enthralled me.  The actors who could portray their characters so believably, the stage hands who could change the backgrounds so quickly, the lighting folks... all of it was fascinating for me.

When I got to Vacaville, I had a chance to make new friends, and I tried to include some people who I admired for their courage to go out on a stage and entertain people.  I used to be able to get up and sing for people, but I usually had a guitar between me and the audience.  Something I could hang onto, and partially hide behind.  My friends, though, Hazel, George, Kenny, and others, could actually go out in front of people and act.  They could actually memorize a ton of lines, and go up in front of people and recite them.  Not me.  No way.  Uh-uh.  Nyet.  I could see myself doing all that work, learning lines and blocking, only to go brain dead when the curtain opened.  You have no idea of how much I admired them, and wished I could be them.

The Vaca High combined Music and Drama departments were presenting The Music Man.  George Lehman, a friend and son of the Chief of Police got the role of Professor Harold Hill, and had to learn a whole lot of lines, as well as dance steps, songs, and rapid fire monologues like "Pool".  For weeks, we ran lines with him, and listened to "We got trouble my friends/Right here in River City..." until we could damn-near do it ourselves.  George became Harold Hill, and gave a great performance (for a Podunk high school presentation, anyway).  He was so worried about blowing the "Pool" monologue, I told him I'd buy him a hot fudge sundae at the Coffee Tree if he got it right on opening night.

We went straight from the final curtain call to the Coffee Tree, all of the actors still in make-up, stage tricks to make them look older mostly, and in costume.  It was a Friday evening, so the restaurant was pretty full, and we had to wait for a table.  George looked around, hitched his pants and said, "I'm gonna take a leak."
Which I thought was a great idea.

We go into the restroom, there are four urinals, and a guy using the middle-right urinal.  I go to the one at the far left, fully observing urinal etiquette, George (in greasepaint) pulls up on the guy's right.  The guy looks at George, who bounces his eyebrows up-and-down a few times, and smiles.  If the poor guy would have zipped up any quicker, he'd have emasculated himself, and BOOM, out the door he goes, leaving three high school boys laughing hysterically in the Men's room.