It was a crowded ballpark at Lupton Stadium. The TCU Baseball Team was playing Cal State. “Wow. This is a blowout,” was said more than a few times that night. 

“Since the inning is over, I’m gonna head to the restroom,” I told my father, who I was watching the game with. 

I estimated about 13 urinals in the bathroom. Plenty of space. And smells.

“I just beat the crowd,” I mused, as a long line suddenly formed behind me. 

I strolled over to the seventh urinal from the left. There was a gap measuring one urinal in between each fellow in the bathroom, as is usual and customary. 

The kid behind me in line, probably 12 or so years old, walked straight to the eighth stall from the left, directly to my right. No gap. 

“Woah there bud. That’s pushing the limits.” 

If you are reading this and don’t understand what the problem is, you are a female. 

Allow me to explain the issue.

If there are two urinals in a bathroom, one is available to use. 

If there are three urinals in a bathroom, two are available. The ones at the end.

Five? Three are available. And so on.

This is something that we, as men, are never taught. I have no clue how we know it, but we just do. 

It does not matter if there are yellowing dividers with odd symbols and threatening messages written on them between each urinal. You leave a gap. No matter what.

Every man that was occupying the other urinals shot the kid a curious glance but went about their business as usual. 

“That’s a bit odd,” I heard one guy say from the stall directly behind us with a regular toilet inside, as well as a door. 

I’m not quite sure if he was referring to the kid’s actions or something going on inside his own stall. I like to think that he just sensed the disturbance in the force that came with this kid breaking a “man law.”

Do not break the man law.