Seán Nolan

HÀ NỘI – Few experiences challenge one's patience and decorum like the act of queuing, especially if you grew up in the UK.

Of course, the sanctity of orderly lines and the unspoken rules that govern them vary from one corner of the globe to another, but it's pretty cut and dry where I come from.

Queuing is so ingrained in the British psyche that when the British Expeditionary Force was harried all the way to the beaches of Dunkirk in 1940 by Nazi Germany, the British soldiers formed orderly lines from the beach to the sea while waiting to be rescued. Not even the risk of death or captivity was enough to convince them to jump the line.

Yet, in Việt Nam, queuing is a little beast entirely. Passive-aggressive nudging, shoving, and blatant queue-jumping are expected and accepted, be that in supermarkets, petrol stations or airports.

Perhaps most frustrating is when this (mal)practice carries over to elevator etiquette.

Nobody enjoys their time in an elevator. Being trapped in a metal box in close proximity to strangers is nobody's cup of tea.

When the doors open, I'm yet to meet a person that hangs around for a little longer, reluctant to leave the metal box that they had been locked in, not least because the doors will snap shut again in a few seconds.

So why is it that some people insist on forcing their way into an elevator before those who are inside have gotten out?

Even taking into account base selfishness and impatience, it makes little sense. By getting into the lift when somebody else is trying to get out, you're guaranteed to create a bottleneck that can only be resolved with some awkward shoulder-rubbing and tummy-tucking to make room.

It doesn't make the process of travelling in the elevator any quicker and instead just adds to everyone's collective stress.

Of course, it would be foolish to act as though my own habits and cultural norms are the best way anything should be done, and I am sure there are a million things that foreigners do that melt Vietnamese people's minds (shoes indoors, anyone?).

That being said, I'm not sure I'll ever get used to muscling my way to the front of a queue without feeling a sense of guilt.

It is a reminder that cultural immersion demands an open mind, a willingness to shed preconceptions, and an understanding that the world's diverse customs and traditions offer valuable lessons for personal growth — or at least a practice in patience. VNS