I promised I was done blogging about cliches or annoying behavior, but I just can’t let this one pass. Last night I met a friend for a drink at the Yard House, a new upscale brewery in Denver. I visited the men’s room, and there were two urinals separated by from knee to shoulder by a metal divider. A well dressed young man, probably in his early thirties, hair spiked out a little, shirt open one button, was in the other urinal. I was staring ahead at the wall, as usual, when I noticed from the corner of my eye that he was holding something up and staring at it. I glanced. Yes, it was his cellphone, and he was working it madly with his right hand while apparently holding himself with his left. My God, I thought, a man can’t even enjoy a good pee anymore, without talking about it to someone else. I lingered at the wash basin, and he continued texting while washing his left hand with itself, no small feat. I glanced at his shoes, but could not make out any damage.
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