Three men walked into a bar.
One of them was me, settling into the local watering hole on Monday night to take in the Leafs’ playoff game with the Boston Bruins. The Leafs prevailed after a close battle crowned by a stupendous save by Frederik Andersen in the dying minutes – lucky probably, but better to be lucky than good, arguably.
We headed to the men’s room to off-load some beery residue before catching an Uber ride home. Confronted with five vacant urinals, we hastily occupied spaces one, three, and five in practiced obedience to the sacred “Urinal Spacing Rule” - some things are hard-wired for men, baked into our genetic code.
The Rule may have evolved in deference to man’s innate hankering for “personal space”, or to accommodate the masculine discomfort with being too close to another dude’s “junk”. But the likeliest explanation resides in the “splatter” theory, a concept neatly laid out in the ancient Declaration of Manhood: “We hold this truth to be self-evident, that a man with a rifle can hit a deer at 400 yards but he cannot hit an enormous porcelain bowl with a stream of urine at 18 inches.” Read the rest of this entry »