Guilty feet have got no rhythm?

Mark Steyn:

The catchphrase of America's famous cowboy humorist Will Rogers was "Never met a man I didn't like." Judging from the activities at the men's room of the Will Rogers Memorial Park in Beverly Hills, many of the patrons of said facility evidently feel the same way. George Michael, the stubbly boy rocker of the Eighties, was arrested therein for attempting to play footsie with an undercover cop. "Guilty feet have got no rhythm," as George famously observed on his hit song "Careless Whisper." After pleading no contest, he subsequently made a rock video mocking the arresting officer, with George prancing around in police uniform twirling his night stick.

It's not clear if such an option is open to Sen. Larry Craig who found himself in a similar situation in the men's room at Minneapolis International Airport. True, the Idaho Republican was a member of the Singing Senators, the Congressional barbershop quartet that also included John Ashcroft, Trent Lott and Jim Jeffords, and he could, in theory, make a barbershop video mocking the arresting officer with, say, Sen. Lott prancing around in police uniform twirling his night stick. But, absent that, Sen. Craig has been reduced to the usual grim rituals of political career self-detonation, from the public statement with the tight-lipped wife standing loyally by her husband to the risible explanation (Craig's foot brushed the Minneapolis officer's shoe but only because, when using a bathroom stall, the senator has a "wide stance"). "I am not gay," says Sen. Craig over and over, as somberly and emphatically as President Nixon's famous insistence that he was not a crook. Any day now, the senator will announce OJ-like that he's redoubling his efforts to track down the real homosexual.

The human comedy is not to be disdained. Nonetheless, after listening to the post-arrest audio tape of Craig's interview with police Sgt. Dave Karsnia, I find myself inclining toward Henry Kissinger's pronouncement on the Iran/Iraq war: It's a shame they both can't lose. As it happens, I passed by the very same men's room at the Lindbergh Terminal only a couple of months ago. I didn't go in, however. My general philosophy on public restrooms was summed up by the late Derek Jackson, the Oxford professor and jockey, in his advice to a Frenchman about to visit Britain. "Never go to a public lavatory in London," warned Professor Jackson. "I always pee in the street. You may be fined a few pounds for committing a nuisance, but in a public lavatory you risk two years in prison because a policeman in plain clothes says you smiled at him."

Just so. Sgt. Karsnia is paid by the police Department to sit in a stall in the men's room all day, like a spider waiting for the flies. The Baron von Richthoven of the Minneapolis Bathroom Patrol has notched up a phenomenal number of kills and knows what to look for – the tapping foot in the adjoining stall, a hand signal under the divider. Did you know that tapping your foot in a bathroom was a recognized indicator that a criminal act is about to occur? Don't take your iPod in with you! Or, if you do, make sure you're listening to the Singing Senators: Hard to tap your foot to "Sweet Adeline," and if you do it's unlikely to be in a manner sufficiently frenzied to attract the attention of the adjoining constables.

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He goes on to do a good job of mocking the other "signals" of the toilet dance. I'm just glad I have never seen anyone tapping their feet in an airport toilet, or any of the other signals. If I do, I know it is time to try the lady's room.