In time, I came to appreciate other types of bathrooms: not just the quiet, meditative closets, but also big public spaces, despite how unsanitary they can be. I loved watching harried travelers at the airport try to keep their suitcases from rolling into the next stall. I was thrilled when moviegoers came hobbling out of a three-hour crime epic groaning in relief as they discussed their favorite action sequence. In bus terminals, people brushed their teeth at the sink. At Chuck E. Cheese, they changed their soaking-wet babies. These bathrooms were public yet private, social yet intimate. And I, who had never known how to navigate a rudimentary birthday party, felt comfortable in such liminal realms. The rules were clear, the expectations were low and the camaraderie seemed genuine, if discreet.