The Unspoken Rules of Being a Line-stander (And Why I’m Now an Expert)




The Unspoken Rules of Being a Line-stander (And Why I’m Now an Expert)


From Line-Standing Rookie to Seasoned Pro

Let’s be honest, nobody enjoys standing in line. It’s the societal purgatory we endure for concert tickets, limited-edition sneakers, or that hyped-up Cronut everyone’s raving about.

I used to be a line-standing rookie. Oblivious. Clueless. I once cheerfully strolled into what I thought was a “short wait” for a food truck, only to realize I was trapped in a queue that snaked around the block… twice.

line-standing experiences later, I’ve emerged, blinking, into the sunlight—a seasoned, perhaps even jaded, line-standing veteran. And trust me, I’ve learned a thing or two.

Mastering the Invisible Boundary in Line Etiquette

You know that awkward shuffle-closer dance people do in lines? The one where you’re never quite sure how much personal space is too much personal space? That’s the first rule of Line-standing Club: mastering the invisible boundary.

Too close, and you’re breathing down the neck of the person in front of you, subjecting them to your unsolicited opinions about the weather. Too far, and you’ve opened the floodgates for line-cutters, those nefarious creatures who prey on any sign of weakness. The key is to maintain a Goldilocks distance—close enough to assert your territory, but not so close that you accidentally touch elbows (shudder).

The Line-Stander’s Bathroom Break Dilemma: Should You Stay or Should You Go?

The call of nature, much like an unexpected downpour, waits for no line-stander. This is a high-stakes game. You’ve secured your spot, invested precious time, but your bladder is sending out distress signals. Do you risk it all?

Here’s the hard-earned wisdom: a quick bathroom break is acceptable, BUT (and this is a big but) only with the express permission of the person behind you. Be polite, be apologetic, and for goodness sake, don’t take your sweet time in there. Nobody likes a bathroom-break abuser. Trust me, I’ve been both the victim and the (regretful) perpetrator.