To Pee or Not to Pee?
By Sophie
I like to hope, upon writing this article, that all of you dear readers have had the delightful pleasure of visiting the cinema to see a newly-released movie: whether that was of your own accord to see the latest thrilling action film; or whether you went with your family at the age of five to see a twelve-hour cartoon marathon, which finished with four people collapsed, one person arrested, and somebody else's popcorn all down your shirt.
As I sat at my desk, shuddering at these horrific memories and double checking my shirt for any leftover kernels - it still haunts me to this day - I began to realise just how much I despise the cinema.
"Wait!" I hear you say (if you didn't say it, I'll pause for a moment to allow you to catch up). "What do you have against the cinema? New movies, tasty food, and a good atmosphere - what's not to love?"
Well, my oh-so-inquisitive reader, in case you hadn't guessed from the title of this article, I am about to inform you of the single worst feature of these disgustingly-entertaining buildings. Hold onto your uncomfortable cinema seats, because it-s time I reminded you about ...
Cinema toilets.
On a scale of one to twelve-hour marathon, you may find that the inevitable trip to the toilet is either the best experience of your life, or even worse than forking over your life savings for a medium popcorn. If, for example, I decide to brave the hour-long drive on a Saturday - and am willing to sit through three hours of being stuck in traffic behind football-goers (all, no doubt, about to watch their team fail miserably) - I can reach a decently-sized cinema with a fair few toilets. These toilets, while not the cleanest and with far too many wet-floor signs to pass a health-and-safety check, are alright, as long as you don't mind finding more soap on the floor than in the actual soap dispensers.
If, on the other hand, I choose to tough it out and visit the local cinema, I have the broad selection of three tiny cubicles, zero hand-soap in sight, and the wonderful experience of lodging my foot in the hand-dryer and having to wait twenty minutes for the cinema staff to break me out with a fire extinguisher.
As you can see, it's a difficult decision.
This is not mentioning the fact that the toilets are so far from the actual cinema screens that, on the occasions you find you cannot hold on any longer, you have to run so quickly that you're giving even Usain Bolt a run for his money. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if the 100m-distance record has been smashed by somebody trying to waddle to the toilets without wetting themselves on the way.
None of this, however, can top the worst part of the urinating trip: the queues. There was actually one time in which the queues for the men's toilets grew so long that it leaked into the girls' toilets; many people even brought their popcorn and hot dogs in with them, and chatted casually with some of the women in the cubicles. It was a wild ride, but I missed a good ten minutes of the film just trying to get past one man who had, ironically, tripped over a wet-floor sign and dropped his phone down the sink plughole.
So, if you find yourself in the middle of a film and you really need a pee, make sure to bring along your own toilet roll, soap, and popcorn, because you're going to be there for the long haul ... or you could just stop being a pansy and hold it in for another hour - which, let's face it, will always be the safer, less dangerous option.
If you do decide to ignore my advice, please avoid placing your feet anywhere near the hand-dryers. You have been warned.
I need to go cool off for a bit.
- Sophie