There is a pool in there. We were taught to use the buddy system while swimming. Obviously, changing, doing a few laps, changing, redoing our hair and makeup is all going to take a while.
(I can get in and out really fast - unless I’m having GI issues, then it might take a while, or I’ll be making return trips quickly.)
Often, we curse being female and taking longer in the bathroom. 
Related topic: What is it with women and showers? I’m quite apparently the only one in my dorm who can manage a five-minute shower. Granted, that doesn’t include washing my hair (which is super-thick and down to my mid-back). If my hair were short again, then I know I could shower, including washing my hair, be out of the shower in seven minutes, and dressed ten minutes after that.
Not that I usually do it this fast, but damn, I’m glad I can when I wake up at 8;40 and have a 9 AM class…
Right, I can now report back to my daughter, who is pissed because I’ll no longer let her use the Men’s toilet, however much she moans about all the hanging around.
Summary of reasons why women take so long in the stall
Taking down clothes
Wiping seat clean before sitting down/squatting.
Replace clothing
Doing hair and make-up in private
Stealth-pooping manoeuvre, waiting for everyone else to vacate the restroom (Natalie will love this one)
Stiil doesn’t seem like an adequate explanation to me, but a lot of you have registered your own amazement at fellow females’ antics. Maybe having had to wait for so long, they want to make others wait a long time too.
Capybara, you say that (menstruating) women menstruate for a quarter of each month, which is 7-8 days. It may be a long time since I did my O-level biology, but in those days it was 4-5 days on average, exceptional cases being as little as two days and as long as eight days (discounting altogether cases of FGM).
WhyNot, blokes take part in stall-to-stall conversation too in similar quiet situations, say in the departmental toilet.
My sister had me going on this when we were about ten years old. School toilets are a pretty spartan affair of concrete, cold taps, steel and porcelain, and this is all I kew. She one day casually mentioned the mirrors, heating, hot towels, and carpet in the girls’ loo. Believed it for years, I did.
Seinfeld deals with this topic well too. I have to say though, as a proud upholder of the blokey-but-not-gay-not-that-there’s-anything-wrong-with-that-mind-you tradition of nonchalant male urinal chat*, that it seems to be dying out. More and more men seem to be using the stalls instead (usually door open). This used to be only reserved for when the urinal was full, but in the last few years I’ve seen a good percentage of men avoid the urinal completely.
Back to the women’s toilets, and although I’ve never set foot in one when they have been in use, I have cleaned the things. Fellas, I can’t be sure what they do in there, but I give you an educated guess. It is a violent, orgiastic mayhem involving broken glass, lipstick, gallons of water, and toilet paper. Lots and lots of toilet paper. Seriously, there is toilet paper EVERYWHERE. All over the floor, in the sinks, hanging over the tops of the stall walls and doors, dangling off the light fittings, brimming out of the toilet bowls themselves… And it all seems clean. whatever they do in there, it looks like they had fun. The cleaners don’t, but they do.
*[sub]“Geez, that feels better.”
Yair, mate. Sure does.
{pause}
“Going to watch the cricket?”
Naah I can’t. Workin’. Should be a good match, but.
“Yep”.[/sub]
Only kinky old blokes like David Simmons do that…
What? All over the floor? Is that why they wear high heels?
A good friend of mine came up with the following non-sequitur when someone asked, “Why do women always go to the restroom in pairs?”
“In case one of them faints, the other one can turn the machine off.”
And this is why I always keep a pad in my purse, so I don’t have to go through all that. Been there, done that, never again. shudder (It also helps that I’m on the pill so I have a damn good idea when it’ll arrive…)
We’re actually having pillow fights. You know, we change into little lace teddies, gently whack each other with pillows, get all heated by each other’s jiggling breasts, then eventually start having sex. That’s why we look so pink and refreshed when we return to the table.
I often find that, you know, as long as I’ve got my hands down there anyway . . . .
<blush> It’s not me, it’s my OED. When I walk down the street, guys holler “Hey, baby, lemme look in your lexicon.”
If a guy shows any interest, I bet you love to (l)et-ym-on. Won’t let him phil-o-logic-al, though, you tease!