The Queue (From Asian Image)

The Queue

1:05pm Wednesday 20th February 2008

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The very nature of a queue is that it is meant to bring a sense of order to things.

But not at the airport. The airport queue is one of life's greatest sights.

It all begins innocently enough. Earlier in the week your mother had packed the whole of Lancashire into your suitcase.

Mum... we can't take more than 32kg.' Don't you worry son...life is never about how heavy things are.' I have no idea what that means.

The journey to the airport goes off without a hitch. All barring that little incident when someone realised we had forgotten little Abdul.

Hey...you can't forget likkle Abdul he's worth a full 32kg's!' As soon as you enter the airport you know the queue is going to test you.

Within fifteen minutes this brother came from nowhere and tried to strike up a conversation with me. I didn't know him but he seemed to know me. I figured his game within seconds. He was simply trying to push in and when he failed to manoeuvre his seven trolleys into the one foot gap he decided to try his luck on the family behind me.

The mix is making life difficult too. There are too many Chaudrhy's in one place at the same time and everyone claims to know absolutely everything about anything. Half of Bradford has descended into Terminal 2 and when you mix a load of hardcore MP's with those from Jhelum you get a lot of angry Gujjars.

Then some nutter decides to leave his baggage and go for a wander. This screws the whole system up big-time as everything gets delayed. The bomb crew are called but only end up finding a stash of Pierre Cardin shirts and pants.

As the queue shortens those people come round asking for space' like ticket touts.

My dearest brother may God praise you. Can you take a couple of our things with you?'.

Nope'.

How much luggage you got?'.

What the **** is it to you?'.

They give you a dirty look and move on to the next lot.

I'm only two behind the leading passenger now. And then it all goes to pot. The middle-aged woman at the counter has kicked-off big time, claiming the big metal thing which three of her sons had to lift up can't possibly weigh more than 32kgs.

She then proceeds to remove large amounts of material and put it into carrier bags.

One more person now and I'm home free. But I hadn't banked on the Adam's family being in front of me. There are seven of them. And some Einstein has packed the passports into the suitcase.

I'm not going anywhere today.

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