Who is without sin

“I’m sorry, but you can’t absolutely do this,” the man says as I close the toilet door behind me with relief.

I look at him in surprise. Is he waiting for me? My hands are still wet. There was no towel available. And no hot air dryer either. I wipe my hands dry on my pants as inconspicuously as possible. In the meantime, the man in front of me blocks the entrance to the restaurant. He has his hands crossed in front of his chest. Is he a guard? An officer? A police officer? A private investigator?

He looks at me as if I know very well why he is addressing me. To be honest, I find him mainly annoying. What does he want from me? The man has a fine moustache under an overly large nose. His eyes are grey with a vague hint of blue. Is he looking for a fight? But why here in this restaurant? Why now, in the middle of the day?

“You used the toilet that is intended for disabled people,” the man says. “But honestly, to me it looks like you are fine. You are not in a wheelchair; you are not on crutches. You are in excellent physical condition. Despite the giant wart above your right eye.”

My first reaction is start arguing. Who is he to judge me? Is he a qualified doctor? A specialist? Who says I have no hidden ailments? Do defects necessarily have to be visible on the outside?

The man puts his hands in his pockets. He is still standing in front of me like a protester blocking a highway. From my position I can see my table. The food has been served, my friends are waiting impatiently. Should I force my way through to the eatery?

“I am sorry I am annoying you with my behaviour,” I say. “But I really had to go to the bathroom. And both other toilets were occupied. Hence my practical decision to use the disabled toilet.”

The man does not seem to understand me. In fact, his mouth tightens, the blood drains from his face. It is clear that he is not easily convinced. I look over his shoulders at the serving staff. Will no one come to my aid? Am I really on my own?

The guard nods his head towards a sofa. He gestures for me to come with him. Since I assume that we will resolve this misunderstanding peacefully, I sit down next to him. It is a brown leather sofa. Something you used to find mainly in youth centres.

“Our world is a place where there is a lot of injustice,” says the man. “It is not an easy place for ourselves. But especially not for our children. Where can they find people who do good? They see abuses all around them. War, poverty, corruption, environmental pollution, consumerism, inequality between men and women, discrimination, unemployment, obesity and people on TikTok.”

I dare not look back. Meanwhile in the restaurant, my friends must be wondering where I am? Will no one investigate? What if I had a heart attack in the toilet? A stroke? Who would notice? Would they let me die alone? Like an old worn-out elephant?

“It is important for our children that we set the right example,” says the guardian of human values. “When they see that ordinary people like you and me are exemplary in our behaviour, they will want to emulate us. But when you and I don’t follow the rules, what happens to our offspring? What compass can they rely on?”

Despite wanting to shove the annoying head of the advocate of social norms into a blender, I know he is right. Shame rests like a tired gorilla on my shoulder. It is true. If we – ordinary people – do not live virtuously, what will become of this world? How will justice ever prevail? Who will fight against evil and mischief?

When I return to my table – my friends have already started on the appetizer – I reflect on the incident. How often are you admonished in your life? How often do you get the chance to improve your life? And while I want to share my insights with my table companions, I see the champion of humanity lurching in front of the toilet doors.

He is clearly in dire need of help. He desperately checks the occupied toilets. Everything is locked. He looks around nervously. Does he expect there are cameras? Still, he stands in the corridor for a few second. Half-hearted. To choose the disabled toilet.