Even though the Scots are fiercely nationalist, and fly the Scottsh Saltier, rather than the Union Jack, almost everywhere, a few things adopted from the Brits persist. The queue is one of these.
Example: waiting for the bus during rush hour on Princes Street in Edinburgh. On one long block are three separate bus stops. Once the correct bus stop is found, join the correct queue. How people know which bus will arrive next, and thus which queue to join, is beyond me. So OLGS and I stood side by side, trying to read the numbers on the oncoming buses. The standing side by side, rather than in line, clearly troubled a lady standing behind me. She kept motioning OLGS to move ahead. She then spoke to me, in an impenetrable Scots accent. I think she was talking about the queue. Fortunately, the number 86 A (Dalkeith via the Royal Infirmary) finally pulled up.
BTW, the bus does not open the doors before it reaches the beginning of the queue. So don't even think about it.
1 comment:
someday let me tell you about trying to go from Lithuania to Kiev and the impenetrable queue at the train station. We never did make it - never could figure out which line would take us to a counter that sold the ticket we actually wanted.
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