As far as guys go, most of my friends are like me: The restroom is a no-talk zone. You don't even say "Hi" until you're done doing your thing and washing your hands.
Personally, I like to take it a step further and not breach the speech barrier until I am out of the bathroom completely. Maybe it's anti-social, but I just don't see a room who's primary activity is defecation and urination as the place to strike up a conversation.
(An exception to this is a sports event/concert. You have zero expectation of privacy and are most likely drinking. So, of course, the bar is set lower. I settle for someone saying "hey" and not vomiting on my feet.)
I bring this up because the other day I had the worst-case scenario occur. I'm standing there, doing what guys who are standing in a restroom do, when another fellow ambles up and this happens:
zipper soundguy: Hey! How are ya?
me:Ummm...okay.
guy: (clueless) Boy, this is beautiful weather, isn't it?
me: (trying to go faster) Yup.
guy: (completely oblivious to my growing discomfort) I'm here from New Mexico. This reminds me of the weather in Santa Fe. You know, you can play golf there year-round...
me: (giving up completely and running away) AAAAAHHHH!!!!
Actually, I just sorta clammed up, finished up, washed up and got the Hell out of there. But inside, I was screaming. Loudly.
I don't know what the Hell I would do if I was sitting in a stall and someone hunkered down in the next stall for a "crap and yap." Either spontaneously combust or commit hari-kari with that metal tube that holds the toilet paper in place, I suppose.
Luckily, my house is a glorious refuge from all this. A brief exception to this was when my son was around four. He went through a phase where closed doors and repeated cries of "I just want a few minutes alone, please!" were invitations to enter and gawk. Thankfully, those days are long, long gone.
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