Oh how the British love to queue

Oh how the British love to queue…

I’m sitting in amusement at Glasgow airport. At my gate (the right gate, eventually) on my way to London.  A manic weekend of catch ups and shows (Wicked!) ahead.  London is always chaos.

The intercom goes off, requesting passengers to volunteer to check in their bags for free.  And behold a queue is formed.

The psyche of human beings is so fascinating.  We are all here, all waiting and about to board the same flight.  If we hadn’t picked our seats they have been suitably allocated for us.  And yet we panic, why?

Oh no! A queue is forming! This must be it, we are boarding!!

And like ‘dead fish’ (a term coined from a friend of mine) an orderly queue of panic-striken people forms.  ‘Is this the queue for boarding?’ ‘Yes!’ another responds.

Actually love, it’s not but crack on if it makes you feel better.

I sit smugly in my seat marvelling at all my standing (read stupid) co-passengers, stagnant, bored, not boarding.

Someone is so bored he has now removed himself from the queue.

That’s right, come join me in the sane side.

Oh here we go! Speedy boarding!  Almost there!

Ps- the picture if you can see it is from the top of Conic Hill just Monday gone.  Rare beautiful sunny day!