Embarrassment

I was once at a wedding in Virginia, just outside Washington DC. The
groom worked for Langley so half the guests were CIA operatives, you
know, aviator shades worn in the church, military haircuts and suits
cut loosely for weaponry. They were right out of Central Casting.

One such guest, a black man in a powder blue suit, who towered over me
(I am 6'4") and cast a large shadow with his broad shoulders, was
already taking a leak when I went into the loo. There was a long line
of urinals against one wall and he was up at the far end so I thought I
would be friendly and went to the one beside him.
I smiled. He smiled. I unzipped and got on with it. I glanced sideways
and smiled again in a friendly manner. He smiled back even more
broadly. I stared at the tiled wall right in front of my face. I sensed
he was looking at me still. I turned and smiled again. He was almost
laughing now. I stared at the wall in front of me. I stared down at the
urinal. I was pissing in a child's handbasin.

The whole exchange had been wordless. He smiled and left.