Mind you queues

Well, yesterday I had the pleasure of going on a coach trip to Umbria with my fellow villagers. The appointment was for 4am (zzzzZZZZZZ) but incredibly everyone was there on time. As the doors of the coach glided open, there was a sudden scrum to get on. All remnants of civility were violently pushed aside as everyone desperately tried to get on the coach as if it were the last form of transport to leave an imminently doomed earth. I've never understood the urgency in such situations, after all, the coach isn't going to leave if everyone isn't on board. Children were screaming, as was one old woman whose arm had got stuck inside but whose body remained hanging limply outside. A manic jostle of elbows, bulky food bags and eclipse-inducing rears competed frantically to reach their final destination, i.e. their seat on the coach. Not one to draw on stereotypes (!), I waited patiently on the pavement, pulling out a Bill Bryson paperback which I then proceeded to read, until the pandemonium burnt itself out and the crying had stopped. I then calmly and in an unencumbered manner, got on the coach and sat down. To say the least, the atmosphere in the coach was somewhat charged... and the journey hadn't even started....