Last night Jett, his roommate Sonya and I caught a 7:50 pm screening of Drive at Brooklyn’s UA Court Street Stadium plex. I hit the bathroom after it ended — two urinals and a toilet stall with nine or ten guys lined up. I was looking for a little sit-down action, but a black guy went into the stall first and took ownership and didn’t come out. Three, four minutes. Five minutes. Six. Could he be giving birth?

Then, still on the pot, he began talking to his girlfriend on his cell, flirting with her, settling in. “How ya doin’? Movie’s over…yeah. You wanna eat somethin’?,” etc.

If I had any balls I would have knocked on the stall door and said, “Yo, homey!” I didn’t, of course. I just stood and waited. The idea of showing consideration to others wasn’t occuring to this guy. Around the seven- or eight-minute mark I gave up and went outside and used the facilities at a nearby Barnes and Noble.

It’s simply a matter of culture and manners. I’ll be attending an invitational screening of George Clooney‘s The Ides of March at the Museum of Modern Art on Wednesday. If I happen to hit the bathroom after it ends I can absolutely guarantee that nobody will sit in a toilet stall for several minutes, ignoring the fact that several others are waiting to unload, while having a chit-chat phone conversation. I’ll put $100 on this right now. I’ll bet anything.