nw3 to nyc

Observations on moving my family across the Atlantic

When a line is not a queue

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Here in the US no one says ‘queue’. Instead they say ‘on line’. Fair enough. I’m happy to be ‘on line’. British people queue well and naturally are very polite about it. When they see queue jumpers they mutter under their breath but wouldn’t dream of telling anyone how upset they are by this breach of the code of being British. Today I experienced my first major queue. It is snaking down the street and is full of families and buggies and because the day is beautiful and warm, everyone seems pretty happy. We are all here for a free event with our kids and we are all clueless as to what exactly we are queuing for.  The pavement is pretty wide and as we join the end of the queue we see others going past us and into the general scrum nearer the front. The people in front of me send an emissary to the front of the queue to see if we are missing out. No. It’s just a lot of people and the doors haven’t opened yet.  One glamorous looking lady waltzes past us and declares ‘I’m just gonna get X in and I’ll be back’. She seems completely oblivious to the fact that there is a queue of hundreds of people waiting to do exactly the same thing! People see how far they can get and then stop. No one seems in the least bit bothered about this, but I did find myself tutting. Quietly.

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