This is a true story, as all of my stories are. It sounds a little unbelievable and outrageous but it is true and it happened. last night (January 27, 2017) at the Almeida Theatre in London.
It is interval at the most moving play that I have seen, I think my entire life, and that is saying something because of my advanced age and intrepid theatre attendance. More about that fantastic experience in another posting to follow. But first things first. It is interval and the line to the women’s loo snakes all the way to the box office. For those not familiar with the Almeida, it is a really, really, really, really long line, and that is not exaggeration. It is perhaps hyperbole however.
So I seize the day. I march to the men’s loo, open the door, suggest to them they have to leave and block the door from new men going in so that women can use the man’s loo. I admit this is not an original idea. It is painful to make such an admission but I am utterly honest. My familiarity with the practice comes from residing in California and attending theatre there. At the Berkeley Rep, in Berkeley (of course) there is such a practice but they do provide staff to make the transition. They do not leave it to random people like me to enforce. I guess that is the difference between the USA and the UK. Well, that is not the only difference of course.
You HAD to be there. To say the least the men were a little shocked and many did that masculine thing of ignoring women. Lots of luck buddies. You should have seen the expression on the people that were there. The men, by in large, were in shock. They could not even manage disapproval. The women were of two accords. There were, of course, the dour disapproving group, but they are constantly dour and disapproving and who cares what they think anyway. The other group, probably fewer in number, cheered me on. They cheered me on at the time and later and later. One woman by the name of Abby suggested the name of the new social movement, saying WEE would be perfect. She is right, thanks Abby.
So at this point you must be at the edge of your seats (haha) waiting to hear what happened. Well someone cleared the way to the handicapped bathroom and I got to go in and wee. There seemed to be little interest in the project so I abandoned it after meeting my own selfish needs. But I did a zinger. I said to assembled women, still patiently standing in line, that they were fools not to take action. I reminded them that I was 73 years and added this which is true and does occasionally have to be said. “I did this and I was physically and sexually abused by my father from the time I was six until I left home at the age of 17.” I am certainly not proud of this terrible fact.
I am abandoning the UK for at least several months. But I will do something to take up the cause for which I have no vested interest. I will forward the contents of this email to the staff at the Almeida suggesting that they adopt the same practices as the Berkeley Rep. I ask for nothing in return. Except perhaps a plaque on the door of the loo. Mens loo or women’s loo, I care not. Nor do I request any specific wording. Perhaps it just should say: “Alexis was here.”
