Queues are one of the Great Wonders of Humanity.
Once August weekend, I was wandering around the BoomTown Fair with a gang of inebriated reprobates when we spied a line of equally inebriated gang of reprobates waiting in a long line.
There were several gangs, in fact, standing around gurning and smoking in the late summer sun.
At the head of the queue, there was a rope.
I could feel the velvet sheen brushing against the inside of my knuckles from twenty feet away.
We joined the queue, of course.
That the magic of queues.
When we finally got to the head of the queue, we were corralled in single file down the center isle of a tent filled with wild eyed, giggling druggies in fancy dress drinking cups of tea, before being deposited out the back of the tent by the force of the people behind us in line.
It was a trick.
We dispersed in shame.
A queue is a great way to catch a human.
We trust it.
We trust each other in it.
The Queue is a Pillar of Civilization.