I was at Guy's in BH last night enjoying many cocktails and some jazz when the former Mrs. Federline and her new BFF Paris Hilton came in. They were nice and quiet, not causing much of a hoopla. Some time later, all of the cocktails I'd had finally made it through the filter, so I headed to the Men's. About five or six dudes were waiting patiently, so I joined them. I was about halfway to my turn when a bar employee brought the blond dream team over and cut them in front of the line (why they wanted the men's room, who knows). Jump to a half-hour later, Paris and Britney are still in there with the door locked and now we had about ten guys dancing in the hallway with their kidneys ready to explode.
The guy who would have been next, but gave "cuts" to the girls was pretty fed up (Jesus, that was almost a pun). He and some of the others in front of me started banging on the door and begging for relief. The next thing I know, he throws his shoulder into the door and presto it opens! I DEARLY wish that I could report that they were cutting lines on the urinal with their Amex Black cards, or that Paris was teaching Britney how properly to flash her genitals to the paparazzi but alas, I saw nothing. They bitched out the dude who broke the door, then stormed out as the hallway full of bladder-challenged gentlemen bum-rushed the one-toilet-one-urinal-one-sink men's room.
We can't imagine that a half-hour of private stall time could have passed without the pair exhausting their blow reserves, so it's not surprising they weren't interrupted mid-line. Perhaps next time Spears and Simpson rudely commandeer a commode, the inconvenienced, brimming-bladdered patrons will bust down the door a little more quickly and catch them in the act of powdering the inside of their noses.
[Photo: Splash News Online]