Rethinking the Stereotype: The English and Queuing Misconceptions
Our whirlwind jaunt through Europe over the last month has taken us from the romantic streets of Paris to the vibrant Old Town of Strasbourg, bestowed upon us enchanting views of the Loire Valley, shown us the crisp waters of Zurich and tantalized our taste buds with the port wines of Porto. We’ve traversed Aveiro, also known as ‘The Venice of Portugal’, and felt the bewitching pull of Sintra. Just as we thought we had seen it all, we’d circle back to Paris and Lisbon, each city serving up a fresh experience every time.
Despite this kaleidoscope of cultures, cuisines, and languages, one unexpected commonality captured my attention — The English tourists and their startling fall from grace when it came to queuing. It was a surprising departure from a stereotype that has long defined the quintessential English behavior. We were profoundly puzzled by the sudden yet significant transformation in the manners of these English tourists on foreign lands. They just seemed oblivious to the unspoken code of conduct that makes queues bearable, if not all-out enjoyable.
What’s more, the queuing chaos we observed didn’t stop the super trouisty places we visted. Everywhere we went, it appeared as if the once punctilious English travelers had abandoned the respectful pauses in between fellow sightseers. Their quintessential manners to wait abided seemingly had been evaporated into thin air.
Now I’ve been through the hustle and bustle of India, where personal space is often a mere suggestion and where queues often sidestep decorum, we naively yearned for the orderly queues we always associated with the English as proudly mentioned on Top Gear UK. Ironically, I found myself playing peacekeeper, urging elderly English ladies to respect the line, much like I would back in Dehli’s while disembarking from airplanes where people found the need to stand “nuts to butts” while pushing forward.
As we navigated the vibrant streets of Porto, we found ourselves constantly nudged off the sidewalks by young English couples, strolling arm in arm. This repetitive situation ruffled even the feathers of my usually laissez-faire partner, who, despite her petite frame, sports well-toned shoulders from regular workouts. In response, she chose to hold her ground by gently shoulder-checking these rudely shoving pedestrians rather risk being bulldozed into the bustling traffic or unyielding walls.
The perplexing behavior continued unabated. At the grand Château de Chambord, a confident English lady, with her equally complicit partner, staged an audacious attempt to cut ahead of us when there was not even a queue in sight. Nonplussed but not wanting to make a fuss, we overlooked the incident, though her air of entitlement was hard to ignore.
The scenery changed, but the theme remained the same. At the highly anticipated Musée de l’Orangerie in Paris — the Louvre saved for a future visit — an audacious move by a middle-aged English lady defied logic. Despite us having clearly established spots in the queue, she positioned herself first beside me, then slyly by my partner, evidently eager to gain two spots forward. Stranger still was that she basking in her inconsequential success while her family remained decidedly left behind.
And somehow, the bizarre spectrum of behaviors came full circle in Quinta da Regaleira, Sintra. Here, an irate elderly English gentleman seemed entirely oblivious to the venue’s busy demeanor, endeavoring to capture an unlikely people-free image of the chapel. His mounting annoyance was unfairly directed at a young lady, who had graciously paused for his photo opp, branding her — quite unjustly — as rude.
So, faced with this peculiar trend, I’ve been left pondering: Have the English, well-versed in the art of queuing, lost their knack for it entirely?
