Potty Humor: Gender Stereotyping in Bathroom Propriety

Women have you ever used the men's bathroom when the women's was taken or flooded? You never know how many refuse to lift the lid in a men's restroom though and miss the hole, since it supplies their only chance to leave it down or up without fear of spousal abuse later, so you wipe the seat and just hover while you pee. Somehow men's restrooms tend to feel filthier and less inviting. Public restrooms in deserted areas are easier to get away with sneaking in and out of because no one would notice your breech of societal rules. But what about busy places like grocery stores for instance? Is it forgivable to rebel against segregated bathrooms when really one size fits all? Often the only differentiation between the two rooms is about four inches of white paint depicting a skirt. Some do have urinals, yes and I find it amusing that so many women in our country have never seen one. A urinal for a woman is a taboo. We have all wondered about them, but never dispute that we are essentially forbidden by gender rules to explore them. I mean explore in the most basic of actions, using sight to observe detail and construct an understanding in one's mind. My question is, what purpose does it serve to have separate bathrooms? In most small businesses and in our homes there is one bathroom for everyone. If there is a constant flow of squatters (heh heh..) like at airports than I can somewhat understand the need to respect different cultural gender proprieties. More importantly how is it that some are so insistant that only that gender uses their designated restroom. So what about queers and transgenders, drag queens, transvestites, bisexuals, where do the rest of us fit in that black and white equation.

While at the grocery store today, I encountered the civilized person's problem since excreting outside became taboo: I had to poop. I ran to the back of the store, identified which bathroom is which (it takes some processing to recognize which sign reads 'enter' and which one reads 'don't fucking think about it'). A little note by the handle said to knock because the lock may be disabled. I knocked. Occupied. Shit.
Being a patient person (generally), I leaned against the wall and waited. Few minutes went by and I began to wonder if anyone was really in the stall. I knocked again. No answer. Daringly, even though someone answered the first time i knocked and I know I am not so oblivious that I missed them leaving, I tried the handle. Locked. NO! Need to go. Need to go. Need to go.
Look at men's room. Formulate plan. Check courage level. Test handle. VACANT!
It was glorious. I knew it was such a simple function, but my adrenalin was pumping with the fear of getting caught, of a male customer to come up and knock.
Sure enough..
I panicked, which of course does not make the task move any faster. Kept having to calm myself so I could finish promptly.
Another knock.
Oh god! Quick, just pack it up and get out of there. Embarrassment was already in lined up for me and it would be worse if I made them wait too long. Tried to find a place to pause, washed, held my breath, and walked out.
A scraggly thin man waited some 10 feet from the door, and upon seeing a woman exit the restroom he had been waiting for became rather aggressive. He asked in irritation "What the hell were you doing in that room?" I replied that the other one was locked and I needed to go as I walked further away. As he started to walk toward the door he hissed "you stupid bitch." I then noticed a mother with her two boys were also waiting because she gasped at the man's insult.
I was shocked and rather offended. He likely assumed I was taking my sweet time fixing my hair or applying make up, which I might have done if I was in a woman's restroom, but passed those things up out of courtesy. I rushed to get out of there.
I found my boyfriend just outside the hallway with a puzzled look on his face. He heard some commotion. A moment later the same guy walked out passing by me. I looked him in the face and said "it's just a bathroom, I'm sorry" pointing out his overreaction to my offense. He threw a hand to the air in frustrated ambivalence to disregard anything I had to say. And then again, for all to hear he exclaimed "that stupid bitch". It was not a mutter like you might say under your breath. He was without shame that all ears around us would hear he had been wronged. Of course I laugh now, but earlier I was almost brought to tears. It was frustrating that he so easily stereotyped, thinking I did it to make his life more difficult. I later decided that those may have been the only real words in his vocabulary and should therefore sympathize with his lacking ability to communicate (my weak attempt at fanning the dying coals of my self-esteem). Then after I paid for the groceries, the cashier defaulted to handing my boyfriend the receipt, realized what he did and adjusted to hand it to me, the person who bought them (this is why I'm a feminist). My interpretation of his thought was to give the receipt to the tallest person (referring to parents shopping with their kids) or the person in charge, in a couple's case, the male. I forgive him for the slip up, he was tired and on autopilot. But the occurrence of yet another gender stereotype against me following so closely after the last one broke my cojnfidence for a while, and instantaneously conditioned me to fear running into scraggly thin men, which contradicts the very thing I was frustrated with. Maybe fear made him a hypocrit as well. Or maybe I just need to be angry at how he behaved and decide for now that he was a masogynistic asshole with anger issues. Next I'll be reacting to confrontation by sticking my tongue out at the other person. Oi...